


Blue Rose

by Xazz



Category: The Fey Alliance
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Body Horror, Body mutilation, Dark Fantasy, F/M, Love, Magic, Mutilation, Necromancy, necromancer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-11 07:49:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xazz/pseuds/Xazz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the death of her sister Helida becomes heir to one of the most powerful houses in the Alliance. But with this new title, these new responsibilities, comes a need for her marry. As the only daughter of the High Priestess she must marry the right man. Unfortunately she and her mother have very different ideas about who that right man is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Map




	2. Loss

Helida peered over one of the rose buses by the girls dormitory at some of the necromongers at rest in a gazebo. They between classes, so relaxing, talking, teasing one another, she smiled. Their talk halted when another came up to them and they all gave off an air of dislike to the new necromonger. There was a brief exchange and then the new one left. She didn’t hear what was said but she could _hear_ their sneers and contempt for the other necromonger. She thought nothing of it.

“And just what, my dear, are you doing here?” a voice suddenly asked in her ear.

She jumped, she would admit to that, and spun. The man who’d snuck up on her grinned. “Od!” she said, “Oh you foolish man, you startled me,” and she pushed his chest.

Her brother smiled at her, “And what sort of _hatis_ would I be if I couldn’t still scare my sweet, baby, sister,” and he kissed her on the forehead.

“Od!” she cried and batted him away, “I’m hardly a little girl. I’m a woman.”

“Ah yes, I forgot,” he looked over the rose bush at the necromongers who hadn’t seemed to notice them. “Which one is it then?” he asked.

Helida looked down, her cheeks turning a bit copper, “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said.

“Ah _hasi_ ,” he cooed, “You can tell me,” he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.”

Her gaze flicked up and lingered on one of the necromongers, “Taddlin,” she said shyly.

“Taddlin,” Od looked at the necromongers, “Eh, could be worse.”

“I’ve been seeing him for a while,” she said, head down, but looking up at her brother.

“How long?” he asked.

“A few months,” she said and bit her lips.

“Does mother know?”

“Noooo,” she said at length.

Od sighed, “Helida-

“I know,” she said, “I should have told her. I was planning to. I wanted… to ask her if I could,” her breath caught in her throat.

“Ask her what?” Od asked.

“Well, I’m still unmarried,” she said, “And I wanted to ask her if I could.” Od frowned. “What is it?” she asked.

He sighed, “That’s why I came to get you,” Od said, all at once somber.

“What? What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Catha is dead,” he said bluntly.

Helida suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe and put her hand up to her mouth. Od grabbed her when she swayed. “Catha is dead?” she asked in a weak voice. Od nodded slowly. She looked down as a few tears came to her eyes. Catha, her sister, her best friend, was dead. Once the thought came she gave a strangled wail and her legs felt weak. Od held her to him and she sobbed into his chest.

Her crying was loud enough for the necromongers to hear and she heard them approach, worried about _why_ a woman was crying so miserably. “That’s close enough,” Od said, holding Helida close. “You all have instruction in a few minutes, get to it.”

“Yes, sir,” they said and left. 

She looked over Od’s arms and saw Taddlin hesitating, waiting to know why she was crying. “Go on necromonger,” Od said in a hard voice.

Taddlin looked from Od, to Helida and then back to Od, “Yes, sir,” and he walked away quickly, though did look back, worry making his mouth a narrow line on his face.

“Shhh,” Od shushed her gently and helped her towards the temple and out of sight of the rest of the Garden. She managed to keep it together until they were inside the private Rosalia quarters and she let Od lead her.

When they arrived in front of their mother she was glad her mother at least had puffy eyes, though she was putting on a brave face. She already wore the blue-gray of mourning. She left her brother and let her mother hold her. “Thank you, Od,” Maja said, gently stroking Helida’s braided hair.

“Of course, mother,” Od said and left them, knowing he wasn’t needed and that he wasn’t permitted to join in their grief. Not here at least. Later the family would grieve together, but now it was just the two of them.

Helida cried into her mother’s arms for a long time, until they were all dry and she was just a sniffing, sniveling, wreck. When she looked up at Maja she saw her mother had a few more tear streaks in her eyes. “There there my love,” she cooed.

“Catha is dead,” Helida said miserably.

“She is,” Maja’s voice trembled slightly. “But we must be strong.”

“What happened? What happened to my sister?” she cried.

Maja rearranged Helida in her lap, “Catha died fighting feds,” she said.

“Why did you let her go?” Helida sniffed. “Heirs are exempt from serving time.”

Maja stroked her cheek, wiping away some of her tears, “You know its what your sister wanted. And when have I ever denied her anything? When have I denied either of you anything?” Helida shook her head. Maja didn’t. Whatever her daughters wanted, it was theres to have.

“What happened to the feds?” Helida asked.

Her mother’s smile was sharp and yet brittle. “Our sisters rose and army,” she said softly, “and it marched across the field of battle, killing any fed in its wake. Devouring, destroying.”

“So the people who killed my sister are themselves dead?”

“Yes,” Maja said. “The Third Arm is sending your sister’s body to the Garden, it should arrive soon.”

“C-can I sing for her?” Helida asked in a small voice.

“Oh my dear, of course you can,” she stroked Helida’s hair. “In these coming days, and weeks, my love, we’re going to have much to do.” Helida nodded slowly, feeling the agony of knowing her sister was gone from the Bright Lands. “Now you are my heir, and I won’t let any harm come to you.” Helida nodded again, “We must be strong Helida,” she said.

“I will be,” Helida said, trying to be firm, but her voice wasn’t really behind it. “What about my nephew?”

“What about him?” Maja asked.

“Does he know his _mother_ is dead?”

Maja frowned, “No. Only you, I, Od, and your father know. We must be the strong front when we tell the Garden that Catha has joined Lemp, and that you are my heir. Once we are, at the least, able to mask our grief, we will tell everyone. All right? Is that fair my sweet?”

Slowly Helida nodded, “Yes. I suppose that seems fair,” and she sniffed.

“Good. Now cry all you want my dear, for tomorrow is a new day,” Helida nodded and sniffed and did her best to not cry again. But her mother mentioning it again made the tears spill anew and she didn’t bother to try and stop them.

—

Helida walked down the center of the temple, head high. Her heels clicked on the marble floor and people didn’t look where she walked. She was heir now, and her poor older sister was dead. She still wore her mourning gown, which covered her knees and her elbows, but exposed the full breath of her throat and neck. Her mother had just finished a service, one Helida hadn’t attended. But she needed speak with Maja.

“Mother,” she said, Maja closed the Red Book and looked at her daughter. 

“Hello my dear,” Maja smiled at her slightly.

“I need to speak with you. Its important.”

Maja’s smile softened, “Of course, come,” and she picked the Red Book up and put it on the pedestal between the statue of Lemp’s feet. She took Helida’s hand and led her into the living quarters of the temple. “What did you need to talk about?” she asked.

“I’m your heir,” she said, finding it hard to find words.

“That you are,” Maja agreed.

“And I’m nineteen,” she steeled herself, knowing it’d come up eventually. The loss of Catha had hurt her more than she was showing though. She’d barely seen Taddlin since she’d heard the news. Busying herself with learning someone of her status needed to conduct herself and learn all the things her sister had known. “I need to marry.”

Maja was quiet as they walked and she showed Helida into her personal parlor, a sun room where you could see the sea from a distance, glittering turquoise below Nedrag. “Is that what you want, Helida?” she asked.

“Yes,” she said, “The Garden needs to see that we… I am strong.”

“Yes,” Maja nodded.

“I want to marry Taddlin,” she said.

“Taddlin?” Maja asked, Helida nodded. “You mean that boy from the south?”

“Yes?” Helida asked.

“No,” Maja said.

“What! But mother-

“But what?” Maja asked, “Do you know that necromonger?”

“Yes. I… I…” her words failed her. “I’ve been seeing him.”

Maja blinked, “And you didn’t tell me?”

“I was going to,” Helida said, “But every time I was going to something came up and then Catha… I haven’t had the time.”

“How long?”

“A few months.” Maja sighed and looked away from Helida, “I was your second daughter!” Helida cried. “I didn’t have to worry about my marriage. And now… I love him.”

Maja looked at her daughter, “I am not angry,” she assured Helida, “But I will not allow you to marry that boy.”

“What?” she asked in a thin voice.

“When your sister was alive, yes, I would have gladly you given my blessing,” she said. “But not now. Now, you are my heir. No ordinary necromonger may be your husband.”

“Taddlin is a good necromonger,” she insisted.

“What is his limit?” Helida hesitated, “Helida,” Maja said sharply, “What is Taddlin’s limit?”

“Twenty-six,” she said softly. It wasn’t a bad limit, but Catha’s husband far surpassed him. Her brother and father did as well. Taddlin was a slightly above average necromonger. He was nothing special, Helida knew that.

“Pitiful,” Maja said mercilessly, “And unworthy of you.”

“I love him though,” Helida insisted.

“You may. But when you are High Priestess, love is second. First you serve the Garden and Lemp, and that means putting your wishes behind its needs.”

“But-

“No buts,” Maja said firmly. “Your father and I were arranged, so was my mother. I know this seems cruel to you Helida, but I do know what’s best. Any man in the Garden would love to be your husband.”

“They wouldn’t be Taddlin,” she swallowed.

Maja’s mouth was tight, “Perhaps not,” she said, “But it is how it is. You will not marry Taddlin.”

“I don’t want to marry anyone else-

“Too bad,” and Helida stared at her mother. “You will be High Priestess, you must have children. _Proper_ children. And they must be strong. Taddlin would do nothing but muddy our name. He isn’t even from the Garden, or Nedrag. If anything he would produce _weak_ children, leave you daughterless-

“He would not!” Helida shrieked and jumped to her feet.

“He may as well. He would not be fit to rule by your side. He isn’t even worthy of the mantel of High Necromonger,” Maja said. “Now, do you still wish to marry?”

“I want to marry Taddlin,” Helida said thickly.

“No,” Maja said. 

“You said you would give me anything,” Helida said in a soft tone. “Give _us_ anything. And I want him.”

“You may have whatever you want, my love, but in this matter the continuation of our line is more important. You are my _only_ daughter and I only have a grandson. The Rosalia must continue through the strongest means necessary, we are roses in a field of weeds. You will marry who I choose for you, and no one else, and that is the end of this discussion. Now tell me. Do you still wish to marry? Or do you wish to wait?”

Helida glared at her mother, but said nothing, instead she turned and flung the door open, storming out of the sun room. “Helida!” her mother called after her. Helida didn’t stop, she just walked and as she did sniffed and wiped away some of her tears.

—

Technically girls weren’t allowed in the boys dorms, and usually Helida obeyed this rule. But when she pushed the door open she didn’t care. The warden eyed her but said nothing and she walked down the hall. Single necromongers lived in the dorms until they were married, then they got to live in their wife’s house. It was the same for priestesses, once they were married they got their own home for their family. The older you were, the lower in the dorms you were.

Taddlin’s single room was near the middle, she didn’t knock, she just tried the door. It opened easily. Taddlin jerked up from what he was working on. “Helida,” he said, with a smile and got out of the chair.

“Hello,” she said thinly as he came over to her and kissed her. She melted against him, loving the feeling of his lips against hers. When they parted she held his face, and his smile did not match her frown.

“What?” he asked, concerned, and closed the door, “What is it, Helida?” he asked.

“I spoke to my mother, about us,” she said, making the words come.

“Really? Finally!” Taddlin was still smiling. “You asked if we could marry?” Helida nodded. “What did she say? Surely you should be happy about this?”

“She said no,” Helida said, putting on a brave face even though she wanted to cry. But she wouldn’t, not in front of him. The only man she’d ever cried in front of her brother. Only her _hatis_ had seen her so unimaginably weak. She wouldn’t show any other man that, not even the one she loved. Especially not him.

“What?” Taddlin grabbed her arms, “What do you mean she said no?”

“She said… she said you’re not worthy of me,” Helida said.

“You don’t believe her right? I _am_ worthy of you. Helida, I love you-

“I know!” she cried and pushed him away, holding her arms, “I know,” she hung her head. “She said it doesn’t matter. You aren’t good enough, not _strong_ enough.”

“I am though. Only a handful of men are stronger than me,” he said.

“In your bracket,” she said softly. “You know, as well as I, that compared to others you are a shadow,” and it hurt her to say.

Taddlin said nothing for a solid minute, letting them soak in the silence, “You can’t convince her?” he asked, his voice suddenly small.

“I doubt it,” and Helida laughed a sad laugh.

“But Catha, she got to pick _her_ husband,” Taddlin tried to say.

“Odar’s mother is a Priestess, his father a grade seven necromonger, he is _hatis_ to three sisters who are all going to be powerful necromancers in their own right and Odar himself is a grade five necromonger,” she turned slowly and looked at Taddlin. “You’re a boy from the south,” she said softly, “An immigrant from the cold and Taddlin… you barely are a grade two. I love you so much but my sister got to chose her husband because the one she chose was everything my mother could have hoped for her daughter.”

Taddlin stood there looking like he was trying to master himself, to not show her his anger as much as she wouldn’t show him her heart break. He would wait until she left before he yelled or broke something. But not in her presence. He breathed slowly, deeply for several moments. “Its more of a matter of my birth isn’t it?” he asked stiffly.

“I’m afraid so,” she hated having to tell him this. Her beautiful snow white Taddlin who always burned in the northern Shard sun, was not from the coast. He was not from the Nedalia province, but he didn’t deserve this. Not every necromancer or necromonger was Nadalian black, some even were just as pale as Taddlin, or had flaming red hair. But they didn’t want to marry the Rosalia heir either. “You have no lineage in the Garden. If your mother had been a necromancer perhaps… but she isn’t.”

“So I… we! are being punished for something I had no control over?” he demanded. She nodded slowly. “Frigid bitch,” he growled.

She slapped him, “You and I may be angry with my mother, but you will speak of her with _respect_ ,” she hissed. “She is _my mother_ , and your High Priestess.”

Taddlin looked down, “Sorry,” he said. They both looked up at the door when there was a knock. “Yes?” Taddlin called.

“ _Hasi_ ,” Od called, “Come out of there.”

“How did he know you were here?” Taddlin asked softly.

“My mother knows about you, she probably sent him-

“ _Hasi._ Don’t make me come in there and get you.”

Helida threw the door open, “I am not a child to be coddled, Od,” she said fiercely. Her brother looked unimpressed. “And I am heir, you cannot command me.”

“I can with orders from mother. Now come along,” and he took her arm.

“And go where?” she demanded.

“Mother didn’t say. She knew you’d be here though and told me to remove you from this place.”

“She has no right!” Helida shrieked.

“She is High Priestess, she may do and command whoever she wishes. Now are you going to come or am I going to have to throw you over my shoulder like when you were a girl?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Helida growled, hand going to her whip.

“Would you really strike me?” Od asked, “Don’t forget who raised you girl.”

“And you speak to me as such-

“I speak to you like the misbehaving child you are,” Od  said. “Now come along before you make me use force, and you know mother doesn’t take kindly to overzealous necromancers who think they can lay a hand on me without repercussions.”

Helida hesitated. She did indeed know. Would her mother do to her what she did to others though? After a second of thought she knew, yes, Maja would. “Fine,” she said weakly.

“Good,” he pulled her out of the room. “Taddlin, you’re to stay away from my sister under pain of punishment.”

“What sort of punishment, sir?” Taddlin asked.

“I don’t know. I’m sure me and my father will think of something though.”

“Od, you don’t hurt him,” Helida said sharply.

“So long as he remembers his place, nothing will happen to him. Come on now _hasi_ , you shouldn’t even be in the boys dormitory anyway,” and he pulled her away. Helida looked over her shoulder, back at Taddlin, who was standing just outside his room, watching her being taken away. Her heart broke seeing him. Then Od had pulled her out of the dormitory and down the lane towards the Sea Gate.

“Od stop… Od! Stop,” she dug her heels in. He stopped and then suddenly he hugged her fiercely, which surprised her.

“I’m _so_ sorry _hasi_ ,” he told her, holding her tight.

“What?” she asked, confused.

He let her go and kissed her forehead, “Believe me when I say I just want you to be happy,” he cupped her face with both hands. “Don’t hate mother, she has to play the game just as much as any lord of a major house. I know you think she’s cruel, but she’s just doing what she thinks is best.”

“But Od I love him.”

“I know,” he nodded slowly, “Come,” he took her hand and more gently this time led her towards the Sea Gate. “Did you know mother arranged me and Dally?”

“But I thought you’d been seeing each other?” Helida asked.

“No,” he shook his head with a slight smile. “Perhaps you were a bit too young to remember. I was _quite_ a ladysman, I am the son of the High Priestess, and very powerful in my own right. I wouldn’t say there was a _line_ exactly but…” and he winked at her, she rolled her eyes at him, though it was with some amusement. “When mother told me I was going to be married I was against it as well. I had _no_ idea who Dally was, she was a woman not even in my sights.”

“Why?” Helida asked.

“She’s very quiet, reserved, and while incredibly powerful, not many people knew who she was for a very long time. I fought it, just like you, and I’m not saying that it was love at first sight, because trust me it was _not_ , but I got to know her.”

“But Dally is sweet,” Helida said.

“When she wants to be, yes,” Od said. “She has a very sharp tongue when she wants as well,” they turned at the Sea Gate, heading towards the cliffs. “I didn’t like her very much either, for a long while. She also had no idea we were betrothed, so she thought I was trying to ‘steal’ her virtue from her husband,” he rolled his eyes.

“She believed that?” Helida asked, scandalized.

“Her parents are from Doskun,” he rolled his eyes again. “But she tolerated me, and then when she was more comfortable, I told her what my mother had proposed.”

“What did she do?” Helida asked.

“She slapped me,” Od said matter of factly. “Very hard actually. Though my ego was worse bruised than I was. I didn’t tell mother of course.”

“Of course,” Helida agreed.

“She thought I was playing a trick on her! She called me all sorts of names, some I didn’t even know existed. I had to ask mother to tell Dally herself, before she believed me.”

“And then after that you told everyone?” Helida asked.

“After my mother had assured Dally it wasn’t a trick she wanted us to wed it took her a while to agree. She had a condition,” he said slyly and then stopped on the cliffs that overlooked the bay of Nedrag.

“What was that?”

“It was actually rather clever really, and made me work very hard,” he said thoughtfully.

“Well? Don’t leave me in suspense _hatis_ ,” she said.

“I had to woo her,” Od said. “I had to convince her that I _was_ a man worthy of her. And let me tell you, Dally? Not easily wooed.”

Helida licked her lips, “Why did you tell me all this brother?” she asked.

“Because your arrangement is inevitable. Mother will chose your husband with or without your consent, and she will expect that you not only marry, but produce your own daughters. But that doesn’t mean you’re without choice either _hasi_ ,” he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Dally didn’t like me until I’d actually wooed her, convinced her, and truthfully, until I’d put all my energy into making sure I married her, to please mother, I didn’t like her much either.”

“So you’re saying that I shouldn’t roll over?”

“Of course not!” Od cried. “By Anceion’s dick you’re a Rosalia and there is no house on the coast feared more than us. We are poisonous flowers in a vegetable garden, we do not just _roll over_. This is as much a test from mother as it is an ultimatum. You will be married, but make sure she knows how displeased you are. Make her work to get those granddaughters,” he grinned a little.

Helida was quiet a moment, “Until mother has run out of options,” she said, “I won’t marry anyone, but Taddlin,” she said.

He squeezed her shoulder, “I do hope you’re right,” he said. “But on the other side, do at least give them a chance? Who knows, you may like them.”

She made a disgusted noise, “That _won’t_ be happening,” she said firmly.

“Whatever you say _hasi_ ,” Od said and kissed her cheek. “Whatever you say.”


	3. The Soldier

When Helida went to see her mother Maja looked angry. Helida stood poised and perfect, her natural hair braided and then those braided into an intricate bun on her head. Her dress was immaculate, her nails perfect, the Marks on her skin betrayed nothing about her. “You wanted to see me mother?” she asked sweetly. She was standing in her mother’s office in the temple, there were no windows and the walls were black, lit only by silver candles that winked like stars.

Maja frowned at her, “You just have to be difficult, don’t you?” she asked.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Helida said with a sweet smile.

“Adon just came and told me he’d prefer to break off your engagement,” Maja folded her fingers across her dark wood desk. “Mind telling me _why_?”

“Oh he did? Poor dear, I hated him the least,” she snorted.

“Helida!” Maja slammed her fist down on the table, startling her. Her mother rarely yelled, let alone at her. “This has been going on for months now. Every necromonger who I have tried to arrange with you has asked to cancel it. I allowed you the boon of letting one of them convince you, but it doesn’t work if you don’t give them a chance.”

“They aren’t worthy of me is all,” Helida said proudly.

“And who is, my daughter?” Maja narrowed her kholed eyes at Helida.

“You know who. I still love him-

“Have you been seeing him? I expressly forbade Taddlin from speaking with you.”

“We still see each other. The Garden isn’t that big mother, and the brackets train together at our age.” She didn’t elaborate that they were still physical though, or that whenever she and Taddlin had sex she felt like she was spitting on her mother’s immaculate shoes. It was secret of course.

Maja glared and for a moment Helida feared her mother could read minds. Then it passed. “The answer is, still, no, Helida,” she said.

“Mother be _reasonable_. Just let me marry Taddlin. He will give me girls worthy of our name. You know that since you have started this, and denied him, he has risen?” she demanded.

“I am well aware that the southerner is now a class four,” she said.

“Yes, just one under Odar. Isn’t that enough?” she asked, rather pitifully at that.

“There is a large gap between the threshold of four and five, you know this.”

“Why must you be so stubborn!” Helida yelled at Maja. “Why can’t you just let me be happy?”

Maja stood slowly and Helida suddenly cowered, her mother was like a hurricane when she was angry, and right now, she was angry. “You will _not_ raise your voice to me Helida, do you understand me?” she asked sharply, but kept herself contained. “You are a Rosalia, you _will_ maintain control of your emotions. I am trying to make you happy, my love, can’t you see that?” she demanded.

“By keeping me from Taddlin?” Helida demanded right back.

“And what about in ten years?” Maja asked. “What about when you are so far above him in rank, ability, and power, and he is still squandered at _barely_ making class four. He is a three at best and we both know it, he passed reclassification by a _hair_ ,” and Helida swallowed. “He will resent you, as any man would, because you won’t be equals.”

“I will be High Priestess, we will never be equals-

“And what is the position of High Necromonger if not a place for your husband?” Maja asked. “If you marry Taddlin he will never be able to take that rank. Your brother, or someone far more deserving will take it instead, and he will resent you for it. For women have no power to decide the High Necromonger, it is something that is decided by _men_ ,” she said it with slight disgust. “He might give you daughters but everyone will look down upon them because they are children from an outsider, a southerner. No matter what they do, what they accomplish Taddlin will stain them with his own inability.

“I _am_ thinking of your happiness, my love,” Maja said. “I’m thinking about what you’ll be like as a woman and not a girl. How will a marriage shape you when you’re older, who will be able to… to protect you when I’m gone?” Helida sniffed and pushed away a tear that formed in the corner of her eye. “I would not leave such a task to Taddlin. Now please, _please_ , understand why I’m doing this.”

“I am. I’m _trying_. But I still love him. I don’t want any others.”

Maja sighed and sat, “I know. I know you love him. That’s why I’m sending him on assignment.”

“What?” Helida squeaked, “Mother you can’t-

“I can. I am,” Maja said firmly. “I’m assigning him to the Galinsum temple to assist sisters Adove and Odove.”

“Mother, please-

“This is final, he leaves at the end of the week,” Maja said, “And I’ve already found a new candidate. Or rather, a candidate I’ve had in mind since this started, but he’s only just returned from serving time.”

Helida balked, “You’re going to match me with a _soldier_?” she demanded. “Mother please, military necromongers are beneath me. Everyone knows most are class threes, at best!”

“Not this one,” Maja said.

“So is he old?”

“No, he’s your age, or about. His seventeenth naming day was some time ago though,” she said thoughtfully. “He’s been serving in the Third Arm since then, with my blessing.” Helida grimaced. “He returned yesterday, so Adon’s refusal was well timed. He already is aware of the situation.”

“You spoke to him, before me?” Helida felt slighted.

“To give him a heads up that my stubborn daughter is determined to ensure she never marries,” Helida glared at her.

“Who is it?”

“Ilnta,” Maja said.

“Ilnta? Ilnta who?” she had no recollection of someone named Ilnta, and she should know, especially if he was in her bracket.

“Ilnta Warded,” Maja said. “He’s a very powerful necromonger, a skilled warrior, and from what I hear, knows his way around a table.”

“I’ve never heard of him.”

“Well, you’ll have plenty of time to get to know him now,” Maja smiled. “He was very excited when I told him he was getting a chance at your hand.” She scowled at her mother. “Now off you go. I have much to do.”

“I’ll have him telling you no by the end of the week,” Helida said primly.

“Of course you will, dear,” and Maja grabbed some of the papers she had to review, she didn’t sound like she believed Helida either. She scowled at her mother before leaving sharply and went to go find Taddlin, if he was going on assignment, he might already know, and she wanted to see him. Her mother be damned, she would see him.

When Helida entered the main area of the temple there was only one person there. They were sitting between Lemp’s feet and were bowed over prostrate, hands just in front of his head. Helida had never seen someone pray to Lemp like that before. She closed the door softly, but in the echoey chamber it was obvious.

The man looked up and there was instant recognition, he jumped to his feet rather elegantly. “My lady,” he said, and bowed, “A pleasure to see you. I’m sorry about your sister.”

She paused, “What do you know about what happened to my sister?”

He looked down. He was tall, his skin darker than hers, almost the color of black basalt, but his black hair wasn’t kinky like hers. His eyes were, and she hated to admit it, rather lovely, and the color of storm clouds. “I was in the battle that saw your sister’s end,” he said somberly.

“And where were you, hmm?” she asked sharply.

“Right behind her,” he said. That took her aback. “I was your sister’s main bearer. Nothing infuriates me more than knowing she is gone from this world and I am partially to blame. You look much like her, dangerous and beautiful.”

“Who are you?” she asked, a bit off kilter with this man.

He bowed again, “I am Sergeant Ilnta Warded of the Third Arm, class nine necromonger of the Rose Garden,” he glanced up at her, “And if it isn’t too presumptuous, my lady, your betrothed.”

Helida was completely floored. She had no idea what to make of him. She’d expected a soldier like Ilnta to be heavy handed, crass, or look like a nercro in human form. Many necromongers who were career soldiers became fierce, and found living in the Garden difficult. In the army they were just men, and respected as much as any man or woman. In the Garden they were secondary, no less important to the needs of the Garden, but their function was easily met and thus they weren’t important.

“And you’re a Sergeant?” she thought to ask. It was the highest rank most necromongers could achieve, as the Garden and necromancers frowned upon their men being higher ranked than them.

“Yes, my lady,” he said. “Forgive me my things are in my dorm, I didn’t expect to see you so soon.” He thought she wanted proof of his rank. That amused her somewhat.

“What are you doing here?”

Ilnta looked from her, for the first time he took his eyes off her and she felt it, and looked at the great, silver, statue of Lemp. “Praying,” he said, “for your sister, and myself.” He looked back at her. “I hope her return is swift, and more peaceful than her leaving.”

Helida barked a laugh, “Then you have never been to a birth if you think it is peaceful.”

Ilnta blinked, “No, I haven’t,” he said.

“Well, Ilnta, I won’t say it will be a pleasure, but I look forward to seeing what you have to offer me.”

“I would offer you anything, my lady,” he said evenly, and without hesitation. “Whatever you ask.”

She smiled meanly, “Is that so?” she folded her arms, “Others have said the same. Adrin Mallot- perhaps you know him?- promised me the same. I had him returning to my mother after two weeks to call off our engagement.”

“With all due respect, my lady,” Ilnta said, “Adrin is weak, foolish, and full of himself. A class four at best who somehow, by luck, got his class six status.”

“And is that how you got class nine?” she asked, mocking him. “Luck?”

“No,” he said simply, “Nine is just the highest class unfortunately. And I’m still better than that,” and that made Helida wary. He wasn’t a monster soldier like she’d expected, but it seemed Ilnta was a monster in other ways. Only a handful of class nine necromongers lived in the Garden, two of them were career soldiers, the others were older, and married to powerful necromancers. She’d met them of course, and not one of them didn’t look hardened, terrifying. Ilnta didn’t look like that, but he was young still.

“Are you now?” she asked.

“So I’ve been told,” Ilnta said. Helida said nothing more, still trying to get a read on him, but it was difficult. She’d known all the men her mother had tried to arrange for her, trained with them. She knew nothing of Ilnta, she didn’t even remember him in her bracket. Not to mention he’d been away for so long, usually necromongers stayed in the Garden, only serving their required time and then coming home, to continue their training. But Ilnta had not. “Is that all, my lady?” he asked when neither of them said anything for some time.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

“Is that all? I was in the middle of prayer.”

“Ah, yes, that’s all,” she said.

He bowed to her, monster or not he still had ridiculous etiquette. She’d never been bowed to so much in her life in such a short time. “At your leave then,” and he straightened but then sank onto his knees in front of the statue as he had been.

She watched him a moment, but Ilnta didn’t move. Clearly he wanted privacy. Helida stayed there to make him uncomfortable, because she could. He didn’t ask her to leave though, he just sat, staring at the statue. Only once she’d decided she wouldn’t get a reaction from him did she finally leave him. As she left the temple she turned around and saw him bent over prostrate as the first time she’d seen him.

—

Od started when Helida sat on his desk. “Helida- what are you doing here?” he demanded. “And get off my desk, I’m working,” he told her sternly.

“Do you know Ilnta Warded?” Helida ignored his demands.

“Ilnta Warded? Why, he’s a soldier.”

“He’s my new _husband_ ,” she hissed.

Od blinked, “Hm,” he said, sounding sort of confused.

“Do you know him?”

“Of him,” Od said, “he’s in your bracket so I don’t have much to do with him,” Od shrugged.

“What do you know?”

“Why?” Od frowned.

“Because no one else knows _anything_. He’s been gone three years! I asked some other necromongers and they either forgot who he was, or they got this very strange look on their face, _or_ they said ‘that weirdo? Why do you care about him?’ So, do you know anything about him?”

Od sighed and leaned back in his chair, “If I tell you will you go away?” she smiled and nodded. He rolled his eyes, “Such a difficult _hasi_ I have,” he sighed.

“I learned from you, _hatis_ ,” she said sweetly, he snorted but didn’t object.

“Ilnta Warded is a slave mother bought, and set free from Jotulla pirates when he was… eight? Nine? Not quite sure as he couldn’t speak feylon for her to ask. He was raised in the Garden under Nedalian teachings and beliefs. From what I remember from his instructors saying, he was a very quiet young man, and the head of his class in most subjects. He became a class five necromonger at age thirteen,” and Helida’s eyes widened, “By seventeen he was a class nine… I guess,” he rubbed his nose.

“You guess? What’s that mean?” she demanded.

“I mean, I remember the test givers talking. Ilnta reached the class nine threshold but wasn’t slowed down at all. He only asked to stop the test when he saw how much he was upsetting the testers,” Od said.

“Is that it?” she asked.

“I don’t know what else you want, _hasi_? That’s what I know because that’s all I need to know. I oversee the testing of all necromongers and necromancers, but I can’t remember and keep track of everyone, the Garden is too large,” Od frowned at her.

“Is he really above class nine?” she asked in a small voice.

“Yes,” Od said, “My testers were scared of him. They told me he held a dozen vilir by himself.”

“How is that possible? Only a highly trained necromancer can do that?” Helida swallowed, “And even then… we’d need a seal and pact.”

“To be fair, he just held them still, so I don’t know if he could do anything with them. But a dozen, by himself, with the normal amount of nercros necromongers are tested with in the upper levels.”

“Mother wants me to marry a monster,” she said softly. Od shrugged, “Don’t shrug he is!”

“I don’t know him Helida, and neither do you. Not all high classes are monsters, you know that.”

“Most are though. And he’s a soldier. Like he could be anything but.”

“Is that all _hasi_? I do have to finish this work.”

She frowned, “Yes, that’s all _hatis_ , thank you.”

“Good, now please get off my desk,” and he shooed her away.

—

The next morning when Helida woke she was surprised by flowers in her room. There were flowers everywhere in the Garden, but bringing flowers inside wasn’t common. It was only ever done for a special reason. But someone had brought her flowers, sitting on her bed side table, waiting for her.

When she woke a bit more she realized they weren’t just flowers though. It was a _plant_ , in a pot. “How?” she asked and touched the bud. The rose was a perfect blue color. The only blue roses that existed were grown in the south east in Galinsum, created and bred by alchemists. They had some in the Garden, gifts from the High Alchemist to her grandmothers, but they didn’t ever spread. Just three bushes of blue roses existed in the entire Garden.

And yet here one was, in her room. It wasn’t a large bush, but the rose color was magnificent, the buds curled up and ready to blossom.

She looked for a card and after a moment, found one, under the pot the plant was in. She opened it, the penmanship was perfect and precise. ‘I hope you like it’ was all the note said and then initialed was I.W.

“How?” she asked again. How had Ilnta come into possession of a blue rose bush? The flowers were nearly impossible to get a hold of, and didn’t travel well, so they mainly stayed around the eastern part of the Alliance.

Helida got out of bed and dressed herself before leaving her room. A servant saw her. “Oh, my lady, I didn’t know you were awake, would you like breakfast?”

“Who delivered that plant to my room?” Helida asked.

“I believe it was Tainny,” he said, “Is something wrong?”

“No. I just wanted to know,” because for some reason she thought Ilnta had. She didn’t know why. Perhaps because it was something Taddlin would do, leave her a present in secret through her window.

“Would you like breakfast?” he asked again.

“Yes, bring it to my room,” she said. He bowed a little to her before leaving. Helida continued out to the main foyer of the Temple and for some reason didn’t find herself surprised to find Ilnta there, praying again. “What are you doing?” she asked, standing in the doorway.

Ilnta looked up and her eyes widened. Someone had beat him. One of his eyes was swollen shut, he had a fat lip, and one side of his face was discolored. “Just praying, my lady,” he said.

She stared at him, “What happened?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said and he still hadn’t risen like he had yesterday. No energetic hop to his feet when he saw her. He remained kneeling.

“Who did this to you?” she asked.

“No one,” he said.

She stepped out of the doorway, “Would you lie to me, Ilnta?” she asked.

He swallowed, not out of fear of her though, more if he would lie again to her. “I don’t know,” he said, “A necromonger showed up, spit rude words in my face, and then decided to beat me.”

“And you didn’t fight back?” she demanded.

Her lips twitched, though not in amusement, “No,” he said, “I would never lay hands on another necromonger, or a necromancer.”

“This man, what did he look like?”

“Why do you care?” he asked, “I honestly thought you’d be pleased. Everyone says how hard you are to please, that you go out of your way to make life difficult for your betrotheds.”

She fumed, “Because I am a noble and if there is infighting in my house, I need to know about it,” she said hotly, “Now tell me, what did he look like?”

“He was pale, and had sandy hair and black eyes. I believe he was in my bracket but I’m not sure,” Helida felt dread crawl into her stomach. “He knew me though and said I was too much of a freak to get things deserved of others. Then he punched me in the face.”

Helida was furious and humiliated, “I see,” she said in a tight voice. “See yourself to the hospital and have a healer fix you up.”

“But I-

“This is not a penance you must bear, Ilnta,” she said. “Now go to the hospital,” she said sharply.

He bowed where he sat, “Yes, my lady,” and he got to his feet. He didn’t wince or appear to have any pain, but she saw his legs were discolored as well, someone had beat him badly, kicked him while he was down no doubt. Helida was even more furious. He didn’t bow but she didn’t mind, and he left the temple.

Helida stormed back into the temple and grabbed the first servant she found. They jumped a little, startled. “My lady?” they asked.

“Please go find necromonger Taddlin O’Shar for me,” she said, very pleasantly. “And tell him to come to my parlor, its very important.”

“Yes my lady, of course,” the woman nodded and went off. Helida went back to her room and looked at the blue rose bush still on her bedside table. She picked it up gently and took it outside to her private courtyard and set it with some of her other potted plants, in a place where it would get just enough sun, but she wouldn’t have to worry about it getting sun burned.

She went back inside and changed clothes, putting on shorts that ended at her mid thigh and a shirt with a deeply cut neck and narrow shoulder straps. Clearly displaying all her Marks, her rank, her power. Then she grabbed her whip, the many shrunken skulls rattling like a rattlesnake’s tail, sensing her agitation, and left.

Her parlor was a small sun room that opened to a garden through a pair of sheer curtains. There she pulled a chair and sat in it, waiting. Her whip unraveled and hung limply over the arm of her chair onto the floor, the skulls quivering slightly. While she waited she finished mastering herself.

There was a knock on the door, “Come,” she called and the door opened. Pale skin, sandy hair, and black eyes, in Ilnta’s bracket; Taddlin fit the description to perfection.

“Helida,” he smiled at her, he didn’t have a mark on him. Ilnta hadn’t fought back.

“Close the door,” she said emotionlessly.

“Does your mother know I’m here? Is everything all right?”

She stood slowly, “I know what you did,” she said.

“What?”

“I know what you did to Ilnta,” she said.

“What? Who cares? He’s a freak and a foreigner,” Taddlin’s mood changed abruptly. “And that pompous shit got what he deserved-

“You _do not_ get to decided what people deserve,” Helida said. “You didn’t even fight him fairly,” she said, absolutely disgusted in him. “Perhaps mother way right, you aren’t worthy of me-

“I am!” he cried. “I am and that bitch is sending me away and making you marry a soldier! He doesn’t deserve you.”

“And you do?” she asked, “You went and beat a man who didn’t fight back, and didn’t do anything to earn your ire. You didn’t hurt any of my other potential husbands. And now this. I had to send Ilnta to the hospital to get healed because of what you did.” Taddlin’s jaw was tight. “If you deserve me so much, then why are you so afraid of him?” she asked sharply.

His mouth and eyes went mean, “He’s a bastard and a monster and a freak,” he said, “But he doesn’t fail. _Ever._ He’d convince you and where would I be?” he demanded. “In Galinsum? Missing you?”

“That isn’t an excuse!” she said. “You hurt him because you can’t beat him. That’s… pathetic.”

“I am not pathetic!”

“It looks so to me. You beat my betrothed, and I’m sure people saw you do it. Do you know how that makes me look?” she demanded. “Weak. It makes me look weak Taddlin. Weak that my own betrothed got messed up by a jealous suitor and he respected you enough to not fight back. Because you’re both necromongers, and necromongers don’t fight one another like this. You _humiliated me_.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he said weakly. “I was just… angry. Your mother is sending me away and marrying you to someone else. Maybe not Ilnta, but someone. And I can’t do anything. I’m powerless.”

“We both are,” she said. “But your actions are not without consequence.”

“What? You’re going to punish me?” he asked.

“No,” she shook her head sadly. And as if she’d planned it there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” she said.

“I thought I heard you,” Od said, “ _Hasi_ you know he’s not supposed to be in here.”

“I know,” she said.

“Mother said if she saw you with him you’d both be punished.”

She swallowed and stood up straighter, “I know.”

Od looked at her, looked at Taddlin. “You broke the rules kid,” he said.

“He also instigated infighting amid the necromongers,” she said.

“What? Helida-

“I heard,” Od said, “Father was just alerted that Ilnta Warded was treated for a severe beating including three broken ribs. At least we know who did that now. Man hasn’t even been home two days and he’s in hospital. Now, come with me Taddlin,” he said.

“Sir I-

“It isn’t up for discussion,” Od said, “You broke the High Priestess’ rules, and you broke necromonger law. Surrender yourself or I’ll have someone with more authority take you, and your punishment will be worse.”

“Who?” Taddlin croaked.

“Me,” Helida said and he looked at her, alarmed.

“Helida-

“The laws must be abided,” she said. “No one exempt, not even our mother. Do not make me arrest you Taddlin.”

“Would you really?”

Helida’s whip coiled and she grabbed it with both hands, “What do you think. Now make it easy on yourself. Go with my brother.” Taddlin looked at her and he looked so betrayed. If she loved him why was she doing this? Why was she protecting a man who could get between them? That was what Taddlin’s eyes asked. Because she had to. Because there were no exceptions. 

If she was going to be High Priestess she had to treat everyone the same, she might love people, but her love couldn’t cloud her judgement, just like it didn’t cloud Maja’s. She’d wanted to give Catha and Helida the world, but reality was cruel and sometimes you had to hurt those you loved. Up till now Helida had never really understood her mother’s ungiving determination to make sure she married who she was _supposed to_ , not just someone she loved. Now she saw. Now she understood. To be a leader meant that your duty came before personal happiness. Maja was doing her duty as Helida’s mother and High Priestess to ensure that her daughter would have a strong, capable, worthy, husband who would ensure that their line continued and prospered. Was she cruel for discarding Taddlin? Perhaps. But in her eyes it was worth Helida’s anger to ensure her house did not dwindle and die.

Helida understood that now.

“I love you Taddlin,” she told him, “Which is why I’m telling you to go. Or so help me I will hurt you.”

Taddlin’s eyes were full of despair and hurt, but he knew she was truthful. He turned and walked past Od, who gave Helida a sympathetic look, before following him. He closed the door after him, to give Helida privacy.

She went out to the garden through the sheer curtains, and gagged, throwing up a bit of last nights dinner. She’d never been so disgusted in herself than she had been just then. What had she done to deserve this? What god had she enraged that she’d been forced to turn away her own lover and threaten him with pain for lack of obedience. Helida told herself she’d done with she’d had to.  She had to abide by the laws of the Garden, she had to ensure that the peace was kept, otherwise in a house full of narcissistic, overly prideful, self superior, women, they would destroy themselves. They almost had once, long ago, before Hora had come and given them a real purpose again.

She’d done as she must to ensure the strength of her house, and now it was out of her hands. Without her involvement the justice system set in place centuries ago would go through. Necromancers and necromongers who wrongfully fought others were all punished the same way; those they had hurt were allowed to chose their punishment. The only retribution that wasn’t allowed was death. Only the High Priestess and Lemp were allowed to decide the deaths within the Garden,

Helida looked up when she heard the door open and the pat of shoes on the ground. After a moment her mother pushed back the sheer curtains from the parlor into the garden. Helida looked away and hung her head, looking down at her own bile that made her stomach roil. “I don’t want to hear it,” she said.

“You did the right thing,” Maja said.

“Then why do I feel so wretched?” she asked and swallowed.

“Because doing what you know must be done, and what is right, is hard, Helida. Catha and I both knew this, and now you have to learn is too.”

Helida looked up at her mother miserably, “Did Catha ever have to do what I’ve done?” she asked.

“Her hard choices were not over men,” Maja said, “But they were over herself. If she should decline her status as my first daughter, to give to you.”

“She didn’t though,” Helida said.

“No. She took the burden of becoming my heir instead, when I know more than anything Catha wanted to just be normal.”

“Would you have let her?” Helida asked.

“As normal as a necromancer can be, yes,” Maja said. “But she said she wouldn’t give you such a burden if she couldn’t help it. She loved you so much,” Maja’s voice broke a little and Helida looked away when her mother went to wipe her eye. Neither of them could talk of Catha without becoming emotional, not without great restraint. “She wanted you to be able to do what she couldn’t.”

“But now she’s gone,” Helida said.

“Yes. And now you must be strong in her stead.”

“I am,” Helida insisted, “ _I am_.”

“I know.”

“Are you going to punish me for bringing Taddlin here?” she asked.

“I think knowing what you’ve done is punishment enough. But he’ll be leaving once Ilnta has decided his punishment.”

Helida looked down, “You’re letting me off easy,” she said, almost bitter. Who knew what a man and monster would do to Taddlin. Her poor Taddlin who’s only fault was his birth, something he had no control over

“No,” Maja said. “The punishment of the mind is worse than I could dictate. This is something you will remember you for a long time, my dear.” Helida said nothing, “Once the healers release Ilnta the retribution will be enacted. Make sure you’re there, so you see the dispute between your lover and your betrothed come to a conclusion.”

“Yes, mother,” she said, almost weakly. She didn’t look up when Maja walked away, leaving Helida alone with her misery.

—

The act of retribution wasn’t a public affair. It happened before the High Priestess and High Necromonger and any parties who gained permission from the High Priestess. It meant that the shaming did not travel, the point of this justice wasn’t to shame the offender, but to punish them.

Helida stood with her brother and his wife Dally and her brother-in-law Odar. The only other witness was a priest of Kinera, goddess of victory and justice. Ilnta and Taddlin were also there, of course.

“Taddlin O’Shar,” Maja said, “You are accused of infighting, obstructive harm, and disobedience of the High Priestess. How do you plea?”

Taddlin said nothing at first, “Guilty,” he said, because denying your punishment just made it worse.

“Ilnta Warded, as the victim of these crimes, what justice do you seek?” Helida asked him.

“None,” he said.

“None?” Helida asked, sounding surprised.

“I don’t seek any retribution,” Ilnta said, “All I ask is that Taddlin is allowed to attend Helida’s wedding,” and Helida had never felt such a chill before the coolness of Ilnta’s voice. He might not have sought to humiliate or harm Taddlin, but he would still hurt him.

“Why you cocky little-

“What?” Ilnta asked, looking at him, and Taddlin looked like he wanted to punch Ilnta so badly. Next to her she felt Od brush his hand against hers and she grabbed it, squeezing it. “Lady Maja has basically banished you from the Garden, I thought you’d be happy to have a chance to ever see home again.”

Taddlin really did throw the punch, but her father, Per, caught his arm and threw him to the ground with little effort. Helida closed her eyes and looked away as she heard Taddlin cry out at a crunch and didn’t doubt her father had just stomped his arm, probably breaking it. She squeezed Od’s hand hard. “You are already in trouble, boy, and now you wish to violate the sanctity of necromonger retribution?” Per asked. Taddlin didn’t cry though, didn’t beg. He was a necromonger, a man of pain, and he wouldn’t let something like whatever his father had done make him cry.

“That wasn’t necessary,” Ilnta said, his voice now soft and Helida glanced up at them, Ilnta was looking down at Taddlin with a frown.

“Get up,” Per told Taddlin and after a moment Taddlin pushed himself into a sitting position, and then up to his feet. He wasn’t touching his arm and Helida was just glad his arm wasn’t broken, but all the fingers on his left hand were at odd angles.

“You seek no other justice Ilnta?” Maja asked him.

“No,” Ilnta said, “I don’t seek any.”

“Then it is so. Justice has been served, the score is even,” Maja said, “You two are not to fight again, if you are found to do so, you will bear my punishment. Is that understood?”

“Yes High Priestess,” Ilnta and Taddlin both said.

“Now then, Taddlin, you may go to the hospital to have your fingers set, and then you need to leave. The sisters in Galinsum are expecting you in six weeks.”

Taddlin didn’t move at first, then, stiffly, he bowed, “Yes, High Priestess,” and he left the room. Helida waited until her mother left before leaving as well.

She found Taddlin in the hospital as expected, a healer wrapping his hand in bandages and splints. He frowned at her when he saw her and looked away. She stayed away until the healer was done before approaching. “Stay away from me,” he said.

“Taddlin-

“You let them win,” he hissed at her. “And you had me suffer not just retribution, but your mother’s punishment as well,” and he got up and walked out, away from her.

Her eyes narrowed, “And what would you have had me do?” she demanded, following him. “You _broke the rules_ and brought about the retribution all on your own, you fought another necromonger. I told you-

“Told me what?” he snapped, casting a hard look at her, but didn’t stop walking.

“That I can’t treat anyone special. Why is that so hard to understand?” she demanded. “All need to be equal when justice and retribution is involved. You did this to yourself Taddlin.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” he stopped and lifted his hand sharply.

“You were going to attack your victim in front of my parents. You asked for it and your broken hand is no one’s blame but your own.”

“If you’d just have stood up to your mother this wouldn’t have happened,” he growled and stalked off again.

Furious, she followed him, “Do you have any idea what I’ve been doing since she told me?” she demanded. “I have been fighting it, and grieving my sister, who up till her death was the only reason I could have been with you at all.”

“So what? Its Catha’s fault then? Yes, fantastic, blame the dead Helida,” he stopped outside the boy’s dorms.

“I’m not but you’re completely out of line. I have tried everything to make mother see reason,” she insisted.

“Obviously you didn’t, since I’m going to Galinsum,” and he went into the dorms. Helida stood there, shaking. She’d never felt so righteously angry at Taddlin in her life. For a moment her fury was that that she couldn’t even move, then she pushed the door of the boy’s dorm open and marched down the hall towards Taddlin’s room. A necromonger was coming out of his room when he saw her and quickly ducked back inside. She’d had _quite enough_ of Taddlin’s lip.

The door was unlocked, most didn’t lock their rooms, there wasn’t a need. Taddlin seemed surprised to see her as she closed it firmly and locked it. Then she went right over to him and punched him, right across the face.

He wasn’t expecting it and staggered, tripped over his own feet and fell onto his bed. “Don’t you _ever_ talk to me like that again. Do you understand me?” she short of screamed. “No one is allowed to speak to _me_ like that, let alone someone so fucking worthless and useless as a class three necromonger,” and she saw he was afraid of her. Good. He should be afraid. He needed to be reminded of his place. _Beneath her._ “If I didn’t love you my whip would taste your blood for thinking you have the right to speak to me like that.”

When she finished the silence was heavy between them, she was breathing hard and Taddlin was staring at her with a mix of fear and awe. “Understand?” she bit out after a moment.

His mouth opened and hung there for a moment, “I have never been more in love with you than right now,” he said, still in awe of her.

“Taddlin-

“I’m sorry,” he said, “You’re magnificent.”

She went over to him and cupped his cheek, “Don’t make me so angry at you,” she said softly.

“Or maybe I should have sooner,” a helpless smile came to his face and he glanced down. 

She looked down. “ _Taddlin_.”

“What?” he asked, “You expected anything less from a necromonger?” he asked her.

“Oh you are going to get me into _so_ ,” her hand went up and grabbed his hair, “much trouble,” she said, gripping it hard.

“Your mother could stand some raised blood pressure,” he said and wrapped an arm around her waist. “I’m probably never going to see you again.”

“Yes you will,” she said fiercely. “My mother can’t keep you away from the Garden forever. Your assignment will end, and you will come home,” she ran her fingers through his sandy hair.

“And will you be waiting of me?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she said, leaning down and kissing him. “I’ll be waiting for you.”


	4. By Any Other Name

Helida peered into her _hatis_ ’ office. He was pouring over documents and signing some quickly. She just stood, and watched, not in the doorway, but looking in. He didn’t seem to notice her. Since she’d become heir she was much more aware of just what it was her brother did. He worked in tandem with her, though not quite so obviously. While Per was the High Necromonger he needed help. Od managed the lower necromongers, the ones still in training and those unmarried.

“I know you’re there _hasi_ ,” he said, not looking at her.

“What? How?” she demanded. “I didn’t make a sound.”

He looked up at her with just his eyes, “I know when my little _hasi_ is around. I have eyes in the back, side and top of my head to keep an eye on little sisters.”

She scowled at him, “Never any fun as usual, _hatis_ ,” she said.

He just grinned, “Nope,” and looked back down at his work. “What is it? I’m busy.”

She went over to his desk, “When’s the next reclassification trial for necromongers?” she asked.

“Uh,” he looked at the near wall where there was a large calendar, “eleven days,” he said.

“Sign Ilnta Warded up for it,” she said.

“Why?” he asked, looking at her now.

“Because I said so,” she said.

“Such a cruel wife,” and he found an application form and started to fill it out. “You’re going to tax him aren’t you?”

“I tax all my potential betrotheds,” she said.

“He isn’t coming back, Helida,” he said, looking up at her. Helida squeezed the edge of the table hard. “I know he’s just on assignment to Galinsum, but if you aren’t married by the time its over, she’ll just send him on another. And another. You’re young, she’s got time to wear you done.”

“You said I shouldn’t settle,” she growled.

“I also said to give them a chance,” he rolled his eyes, “You haven’t given a single one of them a fair chance at impressing you. You’ve run every single one into the ground until they hate you.” Her mouth went thin a moment. “You’re used to getting what you want from them and mother but-

“But what?” she asked.

“I think this time you’re going to give in,” and he’d finished filling out Ilnta’s application. “Maybe you should give Ilnta a chance, get to know him?”

She snorted, “He was presumptuous when he said that Taddlin could only come home on our wedding day-

“Ah,” Od stopped her, “He didn’t say yours, plural,” he said. “You said when you get married.”

“You know what he meant,” she snapped.

“Well, according to what you’ve told me, he served under our sister. Do you seriously think our sister would have allowed her main bearer to have an ego?”

“No,” Helida admitted after a moment, not wanting to but knowing Od was right. Catha hated nothing more than men who didn’t know their place, especially necromongers. She couldn’t tolerate men who tried to get out of place and even sometimes Od had bothered her. Their mother had had to place her protection on their own brother so Catha didn’t hit him for speaking back to her. Thankfully Odar was a man of weak will and had done whatever Catha had told him to do without hesitation. She never would have allowed a man of will or ego to be her main bearer.

“I doubt he did it as an ego thing. Perhaps you could ask him? Have you even talked to him since then?”

“… No,” she said again. It had been two weeks since Taddlin had left for Galinsum, he was probably only near Assarus by now.

“What? Afraid you’ll like him?” he asked.

“No!” she cried and folded her arms. “He’s a stupid soldier,” she said.

“Whatever you say _hasi_. Now he’s signed up for the next reclassification, so go bother someone else so I can work. Why not go bother Ilnta? I’m sure he’d love you telling him what to do,” and she scowled at him but Od wasn’t paying attention to her again. She glared at him for nearly a solid minute but Od didn’t even acknowledge her standing there. If he wasn’t her _hatis_ she would have been angry at him for ignoring her. Instead she huffed and marched off.

—

Helida reclined in the chair set out for her in the assignment field. The classification testers were there, ten high level priestesses and no less than double than class seven and above necromongers to carry the burden of all the summons that would be brought out today. She and the testers were under a tent set up to keep them out of the sun while the test takers were sitting out in the sun.

There was a disproportion of men to women, as there was in the Garden. Men outnumbered women nearly four to one and today only ten girls were out to try for a reclassification, and there were thirty boys.

Od sat in a chair next to her, Helida leaned on the arm of her chair over to him, “Quite a turn out,” she said.

“More than expected, got a bunch of almost late applications because it got out you were going to bear witness,” Od said.

“And how many of the women wanted to back out?” Helida asked and hooked her leg over her knee looking out at the collection of women and girls, some with dark skin, some with light, all their hair braided or locked or bound in some way. Most wore as little clothing as Rosalia modesty allowed, covering from chests to mid thigh and their ankles, though leaving their arms, necks, legs and shoulders bare so everyone could see the twisted Marks on their skin. They stuck out the most on the pale necromancers, but they were clear on girls with dark skin too, the Marks a different, darker, sort of dark than the rest of their skin.

“Six,” Od said smartly. “But once you sign up, there’s no backing out,” he was greatly amused by this. “Morta,” he called and waved a tester over. The priestess in question was milk white and sun burned, with brown hair in tight braids against her scalp and had one green eye, the other was a deep maroon color.

“Yes?” Morta asked, and then she noticed Helida. “My lady,” she bowed a bit. Helida smiled a bit.

“We should start,” Od said, “My sister and I can’t be here all day.”

“Of course,” and Helida held back a giggle at Morta’s tight, annoyed, tone. Most necromancers _loathed_ to take orders from a necromonger. But in some cases they were higher ranked. Only her brother and father were higher ranked than any priestess, as they were both Rosalia, and nobility. It grated on the other priestesses so much to have to obey a necromonger.

Od just smiled at her and Morta left. “You love making them angry don’t you?” Helida asked her brother.

“You have _no_ idea,” he snickered. “Dally is infuriated with me on a regular basis.”

“You can’t even be nice around your wife-

“Oh she’s infuriated with me because I constantly flirt with her and she doesn’t know what to do with herself when I do.”

“So what’s she do?” Helida asked, both of them ignoring Morta who was speaking to all those who were trying out for classification.

“Well she gets really flustered and smacks me a little and then I-

“Okay I think I’ve heard enough,” and she pushed her brother again. Od just laughed. “How are you both still childless at this rate?” she cried.

“Beats me. Not like we aren’t giving it our _best_ effort.”

“Uhg, yes brother, thank you for that,” and Od just snickered again.

“-to test is ne’crone Abadai Turshin,” Morta was saying and Helida paid attention. “This is the first time you’ve tried for classification?”

“Y-yes sir,” the ne’crone said, he couldn’t have been more than thirteen, the age most boys tried out the first time.

“Very well, Atla, if you would,” Morta motioned to another woman who came forward and stood in front of Abadia. Helida watched as the priestess went very still and then a rift in the world opened. A tear between worlds that wavered at the edges and if you looked close enough you could see something in the darkness.

Nercros were the summon of the necromancers. Not exactly the walking dead they were instead creatures from beyond their world, who existed on another plane of creation and were linked to their god Lemp. They had many shapes, many forms, some giant, others small.

The one that stepped out of the portal was human-like. It stood on two legs and had arms down to its knees with uncomfortably long fingers and toes, it was the color of porcelain and completely hairless except for a golden goatee and was naked and sexless. Two branch-like horns stuck out of its forehead and its eyes were nothing but red.

It turned to the priestess, Atla, and spoke. “You call?” its voice was deep and rippling.

“Many will be called,” Atla held her hand out to the white nercro. He was a pact binder. For the amount of nercro they were going to summon today a pact binder had to be brought forward to ensure the ground would be stable for the influx of nercros in this world. Without them they could alter the space and make the land unlivable, or worse, create a rift that couldn’t be closed.

The pact binder looked at Atla, “And what is in it for me?” they asked.

A man was brought forward. A felon who was a pirate and a traitor, selling information about Alliance trade routes and manifests to Federation privateers. His punishment for treason was death. He’d been bound and gagged, the necromongers shoving him forward and to his knees. The man had lost control of his bowels already and had not only pissed himself, but shit himself as well. “A sacrifice,” Atla said.

The pact binder eyed Atla, and then the man greedily. “The pact is bound,” and he threaded his distressingly long, bone white, fingers through Atla’s. Pure black glyphs instantly covered the pact binder’s skin in a language no one knew before they seemed to explode turning the pact binder pure black. Helida noted when the air around them suddenly went completely still, the wind coming off the bay stilling around them, at the edges of the field they were using, if you looked hard enough, you could see the ground turn black in a ring around them.

After several long moments the pact binder stepped away from Atla and grabbed the man by the throat, its fingers melted into the man’s flesh. The man couldn’t even scream as his body seemed to melt and twist, and was sucked into the pact binder’s body. The pact binder’s skin turned the color skin of the man’s before it was covered in glyphs again, expanding out to turn it black once more. Then it once the man was gone, completely absorbed into the pact binder, did it sit calmly at Atla’s feet like a well kept dog.

Once the pact binder was finished did Atla begin to call other nercros from the rift.They were all human in likeness but lacked the antlers of the pact binder and were of gray or bruised flesh in tone. They had red eyes and some were strangely disfigured with too large of hands or arms, or mouths that opened too widely. Some had horns, small curled things like antelope horns. But they were all nercro.

Only a dozen came from the rift and Helida watched with little interest as nothing seemed to happen and then the ne’crone grimaced and the nercros started walking from near Atla, to over to Abadai, standing behind him. Atla was giving the nercros to Abadai to hold and Helida knew, from being told, how much it hurt for this to happen. But that was what necromongers were trained for, to push back the pain of foreign magic being shoved into their own belsong, to tolerate it.

Atla had attached over two dozen nercros to the ne’crone before stopping. “Ne’crone Abadai, you’ve passed the threshold of class one, would you like to try for class two?” Morta asked the boy.

Abadai was sweating heavily in the harsh northern sun and Helida could see even from here how a vein was protruding against his forehead. “I’d like to try, sir,” he said.

“Very well. Odoora, if you would?” and a second necromancer stepped forward to join Atla and another rift in the world opened near her.

The women together lured the nerco out of their rifts and attached them to Abadai who started to shake. “Stop,” he gasped a few moments later, having been given a dozen more nercros. Instantly all the nercros were taken back and Helida knew they were being given to the higher class necromongers to hold, men who could handle the burden.

“Good,” Morta said as Abadai fell to his knees, gasping, sweating and shaking, his skin ghostly pale. “You passed class one classification Abadai,” she said, “You are a necromonger now,” and Abadai looked up at her with a look of absolute relief and joy. Most boys didn’t become necromongers until they were fifteen or sixteen, but to be considered one at thirteen was a rare gift. Helida was annoyingly reminded that her brother had said Ilnta had become a class five by this age. What a monster. 

Abadai was helped to his feet by another of the necromongers and brought into the shade where he was made to drink water and told to sit and watch. Once someone had tried to become reclassified they were allowed to rest after their trial.

“Necromonger Otal, you’re next. You’re a class three, correct?” she asked as a man about Helida’s age came forward, perhaps a bit younger.

“Yes, sir,” he said.

“We’ll be starting at three then, Atla, Odoora, Matis, if you would,” Morta motioned and another rift opened.

It followed like this for all the necromongers, up through the classes to the seventh and eighth classes. The highest classes were all older men who were all old enough to have fathered children. Some of the necromongers passed, and gained one, or even two classes, but many of them failed and remained their current class.

Then there was one necromonger left. “Necromonger Ilnta,” Morta said. “You’re a class nine, correct?”

“Yes, sir,” he said, stepping in front of her.

“Why are you here for reclassification? You are already the highest class,” Morta sounded annoyed with him.

Ilnta looked at her, and then over her shoulder at Helida and she was _very_ aware of Ilnta’s gray eyes on her. “Her lady Helida Rosalia ordered it. So here I am, sir. I would like to start now.”

Morta was quiet a moment, “Very well. Ladies,” she nodded to the testers and Helida felt the heavy shift in the air as suddenly dozens of nercros were attached to Ilnta all at once. Even the upper class men had winced when so many new hooks dug into their belsong like fishhooks into their skin. Ilnta only blinked and took a deep breath.

Helida looked around when she heard snickering. Then Atla reached down and put her hand on the pact binder’s head and the snickering stopped. The _pact binder_ had been laughing. Helida frowned.

She watched as an army formed up behind Ilnta and he even made them stand in parade formation of squads and regiments. Dozens and dozens of nercros from nine different necromancers. He didn’t even look uncomfortable. More than anything that frustrated Helida. She’d made him take the reclassification because necromongers always said classifications were the worst parts of being a necromonger and the most painful days of their entire lives. Most necromongers never had to carry as many nercros as they were tested on. She’d wanted to see Ilnta in pain, to see him weak, and perhaps even, to humiliate him. But he didn’t even flinch, instead he just stood there, his mouth open slightly and appeared to be mouthing words. Not uncommon, high class necromongers often tried to put themselves into a trance at least until the hooking had been completed.

Eventually the women stopped. “Is that all, Morta?” one of them asked. The other priestesses looked between each other, looking concerned and almost afraid. Ilnta had shown no signs of needing to stop.

Morta’s mouth was thin and pale, she looked at Helida. “That is the capacity of class nine necromongers, are you satisfied, my lady?” she asked.

Helida felt everyone looking at her and she carefully got out of her chair and went over to Ilnta. He was sweating, but not like some of the men. He was sweating from the sun, and not the strain. His eyes flicked over her before resting on her face. “Is this all you have to show for yourself?” she asked him, too far away for the others to hear. She didn’t sound impressed. She was honestly nearly horrified, that such a man existed, and at such a young age too. Ilnta was monstrous. “Does it hurt?” she asked him unkindly.

“No, my lady. It doesn’t hurt,” he said and she saw no lie in his eyes or in his voice. That infuriated her. She’d made him come here to be in pain. And yet he felt _none_.

Helida reached out with her power and a rift opened, a large one. Her vision went red as her red eye washed over in red. She could see the bunching of the worlds, the way the air rippled around them from all the nercros between them, waiting to come through, waiting to be used, to be killed. But Helida didn’t bother herself with those nercros. She went to for the largest one and it was like she was breathing for the first time, the absolute feeling of exhilaration she felt as she called one of the largest nercros; the vilir.

The rift widened and grew taller and when the vilir pulled itself through into their world she breathed out deeply. “My lady?” Morta called, anxious. Vilir were towering nercros, humanoid in shape with long limbs and short bodies with a deformed head that was too tall and narrow. Eleven, red, eyes decorated their forehead, arranged in the shape of a fan, and their mouths hung open a bit perpetually, their jaw able to become unhinged and were filled with teeth the size of a man’s hand. They were siege monsters, or creatures used when times were rough and the stakes were high and they _couldn’t lose_.

“We’ll be summoning vilir now,” Helida called back. She took the long strand of her belsong that had called the vilir here and disconnected it from her. “And I want you to make them walk,” she told Ilnta with a mean smile as she attached the end of her strand onto Ilnta’s belsong.

“Yes, my lady,” he said unerringly and Helida stepped back from him as the other priestesses made their rifts larger to accommodate the passage of a vilir. Helida joined them and added several vilir to Ilnta’s belsong.

She cleared her vision to see what was happening, since while summoning it was nearly impossible to see the world you were in, but rather you saw where the worlds touched. Her hands became fists when she saw Ilnta was not only making the vilir, which now numbered a dozen, easily, walk, but do so in lines. Two lines, each vilir perfectly in step, walking between the lines of nercro, which had also moved to allow lanes between their regiments.

“That’s enough,” Od said, now standing.

“Od,” she turned towards him and scowled at him.

“I said,” Od said clearly, “That’s enough. Priestesses, please recall your nercros, all of them. We don’t have all day to be here and hope Warded gives in, the necromancers still have to go through their tests.”

“Yes, my lord,” Morta said, “Ladies,” she added. Large rifts opened in the back of the armies and the priestesses looked surprised. Helida held her power to see what they were seeing. Ilnta was radiant in her magical sight, surrounded by hundreds of threads all going to the nercros he was holding. And he was walking them all into the rifts that had been created, even the vilir. Helida released her power and saw for real that Ilnta was doing it, and not the necromancers.

“If I was only twenty years younger,” she heard a priestess say.

“Indeed,” another agreed and Helida scowled. The testers were impressed by Ilnta.

Helida went back over to the chair set out for her and threw herself into it, sulking. She watched as Ilnta sent the last of the nercros through the rifts and then finally, he sagged. She perked up, hoping he’d fail. But then he shook his shoulders and himself and stood back up and walked to the tent under his own power for water.

“Now then, if we could start the necromancy testing,” Od said.

“Yes, my lord,” Morta said.

“Fantastic,” and Od sat back down.

“Why did you stop it?” Helida hissed at him.

“Because he wasn’t going to stop until he killed himself,” Od said.

“What?” she asked.

“You’re here. You made him be here. He wants to impress you you fool,” and she glared at him. “He’s a necromonger and your betrothed, do you think he would ever shame you by not being able to handle whatever was thrown at him?” he asked.

“Other potentials did,” she said scornfully.

“You didn’t personally come to the classifications to see them be humiliated,” Od said. “And now you just showed off, to everyone, including some of the highest classes necromongers there are, that your betrothed is probably the strongest necromonger we ever trained. There hasn’t been a man like him in the Garden… ever. Rarely do necromongers breach class nine. Ilnta not only passes it, he shatters it. Now will you stop being _so stubborn_ and give him a damn chance?”

She looked over her shoulder at Ilnta and some of the other necromongers. He wasn’t talking with any of those his own age, and when she looked she saw it was because they looked at him with envy and scorn. How dare he be so much better than them. The older men didn’t look it like that though, sure she could see they were a bit jealous, but they looked impressed than envious of his abilities. She turned back around and sunk down in her seat miserably.

“I don’t want to,” she said weakly.

“Why?” he asked.

“What if I like him?” she asked him, looking at Od.

“How would that be a bad thing?”

“I promised Taddlin-

“Taddlin is gone, _hasi_ ,” Od said and reached out to pat her hand, “Just give the kid a chance. If you actually don’t like him, well, at least you honestly tried. Not like all those other times you ‘gave them a chance’,” and she didn’t have to see him to know he was rolling his eyes.

—

Helida sat alone in her private courtyard, just outside her room. The sun was going down and she was staring at the blue rose bush. It had flowered _spectacularly_ , each blue flower perfect and was still blooming. She counted over a dozen blue roses on the little bush in total and that many buds. It was beautiful and yet made her angry because _how_ had Ilnta gotten hold of a blue rose bush?

She looked over when there was a knock on her bedroom door, “Enter,” she called and the door opened slowly, warily. For some reason that amused her and she felt a smile tug on her lips. “Back here,” she called as she heard the door close softly and a moment later the curtains that separated her room from the courtyard was pushed back. Helida had to look up when Ilnta entered.

“My lady,” and he bowed a little. Though he seemed… nervous. This was only the third time she’d ever really talked to him, the other two were in the public space of the temple. Now all the sudden she’d ordered him here. Of course he was wary.

“Sit,” she said and watched Ilnta look for another chair. But there was none, just hers. He didn’t ask for one though and just walked over to her and sat cross legged on the ground, a bit to her left. The few others of her betrothed she’d brought here had all asked for one and she’d told them to just sit on the floor, which they’d done, though looked insulted to do so. Ilnta had done so without prompting.

Helida looked back at the rose bush, but didn’t say anything, wondering if he’d say anything. The sun continued to go down, vanishing behind the tall hedges that lined the edges of her courtyard. Ilnta still said nothing, a good example than the others. They all had spoken within a minute, not knowing what to do with the silence and disproportioned status she’d thrown at them by having them sit on the floor.

“Tell me, Ilnta,” Helida finally said when she was good as ready, “how did you feel when my mother told you you’d get a chance to marry me?” she glanced at him.

Ilnta looked like he was collecting his thoughts. “Worried,” he finally said.

She looked at him sharply, suddenly insulted, “Worried?” she asked, “Why?”

“I knew your sister,” he said, “If you were anything like her, I had plenty to be worried about.”

“Are you saying something about my sister?” Helida narrowed her eyes at Ilnta.

“Your sister was an amazing woman, my lady,” he said, “I knew her rather well, as her main bearer, but she wasn’t an easy woman to get along with at times.”

“And do you think me different then?” she asked.

“From your sister? Yes. You aren’t like her, you’re softer than she ever was,” and Helida didn’t know if she should have been insulted by that or not, or insulted on behalf of Catha. “And if I might say, more beautiful too.”

“Watch the flattery necromonger,” she gave him a look and Ilnta looked down, but had a little smile on his face. They lapsed into silence again before Helida asked, “How did you get it?” she asked.

“Get what, my lady?”

“The roses,” she looked at the blue rose bush again. “How did _you_ get a blue rose bush? And then get it to me no less?”

“I have friends,” Ilnta said, “One is an alchemist named Vondugard O’Song, known in the Third Arm as Gilded Alchemist-

“You know the Gilded Alchemist?” Helida asked. He was well known, for a military alchemist. He was known for his ability to melt armor right on your body with a powder, killing whoever was inside as it burned their skin and cooked them from the outside in.

“Yes,” Ilnta said, “When I told him I was leaving the Arm to attempt to marry a girl he told me he would send me a gift to help. He said, and these are his words my lady, I only repeat them, ‘those necromancers could do with a little buttering up to be reminded they’re allowed to be womanly’.” Helida’s eyes were narrowed when he was finished. “I promptly told him to go fuck himself,” and Helida couldn’t help it, she laughed, and it was also the first time she’d ever heard Ilnta be anything but proper. “But he still sent the bush, it arrived the day after I did. And… well, it was for you all along. Do you like it?”

She looked at the blue rose bush, then back at him, “I do,” she admitted. Ilnta smiled, she’d never seen him do that, he didn’t seem to take pleasure in anything. She hated how handsome it made him.

“Good,” he said, “I’m glad you like it.”Helida said nothing to that and allowed silence to fall between them again. “Why should I give you a chance?” she asked him and gave him a long look. “Any necromonger would love to marry me. Why should I let you do so?”

“I don’t know,” Ilnta said. “I know Taddlin was your lover,” she narrowed her eyes at him, “I don’t regret my retribution,” he said plainly. “If he was to humiliate us, then I would humiliate him.”

“Its us now?” she asked.

“I didn’t fight back when Taddlin attacked me because I know better,” he said. “And I know that anything I did would reflect directly upon you, my lady. I would not dishonor you so much to kill a man with my bare hands.”

She blinked, “Excuse me?” she asked, “Killed him with your bare hands?” she clarified.

“I don’t like when those lesser than me think they are above me,” he said, “I might be a necromonger, but no man gets away with hurting me.” Ilnta’s eyes were suddenly hard as steel and Helida saw she wasn’t wrong about him. He’d known exactly what he’d been doing during his retribution. “I’ve killed men for less than what Taddlin did to me. Had he done it before the High Priestess had told me I would have. Boys in my bracket, before I left for war, knew not to get on my bad side. They forgot while I was gone.”

Despite how terrible Ilnta was Helida, surprisingly, didn’t feel threatened. “So you would have killed my lover with your bare hands? And then where would you have been?” she asked.

“It would have been instant retribution,” Ilnta said, “He was going to kill me.”

“And why didn’t he then?” she asked.

“Because a necromancer saw him, and scared him away.”

“So you would have let him kill you?”

Ilnta smiled and it was broken, “Why not?” he asked, “I’m practically dead anyway.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I had a twin brother. He’s dead now.”

“I thought it was just you who my mother bought when you were a slave?”

“He died before that,” Ilnta said. “Without him I’m a dead man walking. I wouldn’t shame you. I wouldn’t have killed Taddlin for his stupidity, but I wouldn’t let him get away with what he did. It didn’t matter to me if I married you or not, my lady. I just wanted him to see that he never would,” and his words were cold.

Her bedroom door opened without knocking, “ _Hasi_ ,” Od called, “I know you have a boy in here.”

“I’m not allowed to have my betrothed in my own room now?” Helida asked.

Od opened the curtains to stick his head through, “Not according to mother you aren’t. Hello Ilnta, glad to see my stubborn _hasi_ is giving you some form of acknowledgment,” he smiled.

“ _Od_ ,” she hissed.

“Yes _hasi_?” he asked cheerfully. She just narrowed her eyes at him. “But really, you know you aren’t allowed to have boys in here after dark.”

“Apologizes, my lord, I wasn’t aware,” Ilnta said.

“I know,” Od kept grinning, “No doubt she wanted to get you in trouble like she did Taddlin. So I’m letting you off this one time-

“Od you can’t-

“I’m the Second, I get to decide if necromongers are punished are not. Ilnta, come with me,” he motioned.

Ilnta stood up, “Good night, my lady,” and he bowed to her before going through the curtains with Od. She frowned after the both of them.


	5. A Foreign Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for hand torture

It was dawn. An orange sun crept over the bay of Nedrag. Ilnta watched it rise, staring at Safasu’s halo as it made the waters shimmer. Higher in the sky Daisuni’s single silver eye was half closed as if in sleep. He frowned. He hadn’t thought in those terms in a very long time.

Ilnta shook himself and turned away from Anceion’s brilliant sunrise. Like many nights he’d been unable to sleep. Nearly ten years; he still had nightmares. He found solace on the roof of the boy’s dormitory, watching the blanket of stars cross in front of his eyes. When he’d been in the Arm he’d leave his barracks, or his tent, and leave the fire light where it was dark, and watch the stars with a sentry until daylight. He went back into the building, taking himself out of the gods’ gaze.

In the boys dorms the day was starting. Girls were allowed to sleep in, such was their lot of their birth, but the boys woke with first light. Ilnta joined a group of boys three brackets below him when they went to one of the large, communal, bathing rooms. Some of the men were half asleep still, bleary eyed and exhausted, but others were alert and awake. Ilnta was one of them. He knew the sun had finished rising by the sound of banging on still locked doors and the howling of the dorm monitors, yelling at those still asleep to wake up before they brought in a necromancer. That was enough to rouse most.

Ilnta bathed quickly, thoroughly, before climbing from the pool-like tub and returning to his room. He had a room at the end of the, with two large windows and a doorway that opened into a small, private, patio. Tall hedges lined the patio, blocking the view of outsiders. His status got him such a good room with a large, comfortable bed, and a large closet, and comfortable chairs and even a sofa. He didn’t know if it was because he was class nine or because he was going to marry Helida. It didn’t particularly matter he supposed.

A disfigured statue of Lemp sat on the top of his dresser. The stood leaning on his shepherd’s crook, head tilted to the side. Ilnta had broken the statue’s head on the right side, so it looked more like Daisuni’s face with his one good eye. He touched his first two fingers to his lips and touched the small statue’s feet, then clapped his hands twice and bowed to it, hands together.

Nearly ten years. He should have stopped practicing like a child a long time ago. He doubted his wife to be would tolerate his foreign practices. He just tried not to think about it as he dressed. Canvas pants, red vest, no shirt, though he wrapped both his wrists in binding. He didn’t have the money to wear bangles like his father had, thick bands of gold braided like wicker that he never saw the man take off. He could still remember his father saying, his pink eyes hard and sharp, that a man wasn’t just judged by his tone, but by the strength of his hands. But to have strong hands you needed strong wrists, you had to show yours were capable and strong, and that’s why you bolstered them with wraps and gold.

Most of the other necromongers were leaving when Ilnta left his own room. None of his bracket mates spoke to him. They hated him. He was too young. Too good. Fools. Such stupid, _stupid_ , fools. If only they knew. The Rosalia were a wonder he could have only dreamt of as a child, a people his tribe claimed couldn’t exist. Yet here they were. And where did that leave him?

Broken still. Nothing would change that.

Breakfast happened outside in the large courtyard all the dormitories circled. Tables were set out by young necromongers before sunrise and breakfast laid out in great heaping plates. For breakfast there were fruits and cool sweet milk flavored with vanilla or chocolate (whichever was your preference), oats if you wanted them but also noodles with tofu cubes and pea pods and carrots. There were salad greens and toast of six different breads and two rolls with butter flavored with garlic, dill, chives, onions, and fruit. There were quiches filled with vegetables and cheeses and freshly chopped herbs piled into plates everywhere to garnish as you wish. That was about half the offered food. No meat though. If you wanted meat you had to go to Nedrag.

All this food was needed, to feed all the students who lived in the Garden. All the necromongers and necromancers who still lived in the dorms. The dorms housed about three thousand necromongers, and about half that of necromancers. Once the men were done the tables would be taken away and actual seating would be placed out and older necromongers who’d earned the privilege would serve the girls in training and young sorceresses.

Ilnta took his usual, several thick slices of some crusty, crunchy, bread, butter flavored with something orange and spicy, and noodles with tofu and the seasonal fruit of blackberries and apricots. Then he went and sat on the grass. Many necromongers went back to their rooms to eat, and came back for seconds if they wanted. They had an hour to eat breakfast before the girls started their day and the place had to be cleared out. Unless you were serving men weren’t allowed in the big courtyard after men’s meal during meal times. It was strictly against the rules. Some of them did eat outside though, preferring it before it got so unbearably hot and you needed to seek shelter in the shade. No one sat near Ilnta though. He didn’t have many friends in the dormitories. Those who liked him and he liked were older necromongers, married men with rank and status and who were similarly skilled as him.

The bell in between the two girls’ dormitories started to ring. Breakfast was over. Ilnta got up, brushed crumbs off his vest and pants and delivered his plate to a waiting cart. Then he helped move the tables, the food picked clean by the hungry necromongers.

Smaller tables were brought out, laid out with red-orange table cloths and white porcelain dish ware and elegant earthen cups with tall fluted necks and fat, round, bottoms. Ilnta smoothed out most of the table cloths while the necromonger in charge, an older man who's skin was like worked leather and had very specific and meticulous scarring on his forearms, told those under him what to do. When they were finished setting up the first necromancers started to come out of their dorms.

Like the necromongers necromancers came in all ages. From ages of twelve all the way up to women in their early twenties. Some of the youngest ones were accompanied by their older brothers, their _hatis_ , but most weren’t.

“Warded,” Dennik, the necromonger in charge, snapped and made him look. “Stop staring at the girls,” he nodded mutely and formed in the line with the other men back by the kitchen building that was a buffer between a girl and boy dormitory. He was given a tray and it was quickly filled with little crystal cups filled with fresh cut fruit.

Ilnta straightened as he slowly made his way to the front of the line, waiting until Dennik told him to go. He just stood, and waited as the tables quickly filled and drinks were being brought around, with the other men all dressed similarly to him. Open vest, no shirt, shorts. On one hand it was eye candy for the female necromancers, on the other all these men (except him) wanted a girlfriend. Men outnumbered women nearly four to one in the Garden, meaning most men would never court or marry a necromancer. But if they caught her fancy? Worth a shot to walk around half naked at any rate.

Dennik finally motioned to him and several others to go out. Unlike necromonger meals necromancer meals were choreographed. Breakfast started with drinks, tea or juice or sweet milk, and then fruit came next. Ilnta went to one of the tables and offered his tray to the ten barely teenage girls sitting there. Some smiled at him, one of the older ones batted her eyelashes at him as she took a cup off his tray. He winked at them as he turned to the next of his tables, two down, and left the girls giggling and whispering. He smiled to himself as he walked.

The next table was full of sorceresses in their early twenties and they eyed him hungrily, a few touched his arms, as if to get his attention to turn to them so they could get a second helping. He had no winks for them and clenched his teeth when one grabbed his ass. This is why he’d _left_ the Garden. He was too _damn good_ to be treated like this! When he got to a table with a man sitting next to a girl old enough to be her father he smiled a little. The man looked tired. “ _Hitsin_ ,” he said in greeting. They just nodded and put the cup on his sister’s plate, but none for himself.

After that table his tray was empty and he returned to the kitchen. Necromancers were served closest to the kitchen and back to allow for stragglers to eat a full meal. Ilnta was given another tray laden with fruit and he was off again, different tables this time. He did that with bread and sweet, pickled, vegetables before he felt a change. He was in the kitchen getting loaded up with several large bowls of salad for tables to share when Dennik showed up.

“Someone take his tray,” he ordered someone, a cook took Ilnta’s tray.

“Is something wrong?” Ilnta asked as Dennik shoved another tray into his arms.

“Come with me,” the man said and Ilnta knew nothing else but to follow.

Ilnta stopped at the kitchen entrance. Even at this distance he knew what had happened. He recognized her silhouette anywhere. Helida was here. She was sitting at one of the tables, not up front, but rather on the edge, chatting with some girls who were probably in her bracket. She never came to common meals. _Never_. Ilnta had been serving for nearly three months and he never saw her. In fact other to sneer at him or test him he didn’t see her.

He set his features, “Her ladyship Helida is here for breakfast. She asked you, specifically, to serve her table.”

“Of course, sir,” Ilnta said.

“Go see what she wants. Knowing her she won’t want the traditional course.”

“Yes, sir,” he said and walked over to the table. He cooled himself as he neared. “Ladies,” he bowed when he arrived. Several of the girls giggled. When he looked up Helida was simply smiling. Her, ‘I’m going to test you’ smile that he found rather beautiful on her. But then, she was beautiful. So unlike her sister who was just skin deep beauty. She was ugly underneath and hated men more fiercely than she hated the Drake. In some ways he was glad she was dead, though it pained him to think that as well. But he was glad to be rid of her, if only because now he didn’t have to worry over her.

“I didn’t know you were a server boy, Ilnta,” Helida said, absolutely _gleeful_.

“I always aim to surprise, my lady,” Ilnta said.

“I missed drinks and I’m so thirsty. Go get me some would you? And them, they want refills,” she motioned to the nine other women.

“Of course,” Ilnta said and picked up each of the cups, not asking what they’d been drinking, not asking Helida what she wanted. This was all a test. A husband was supposed to anticipate the needs of his wife.

He went back to the kitchen and sniffed each cup, putting them back exactly as he’d had them. There weren’t a terrible number of choices thankfully so he refilled the cups quickly. But that left Helida. What did he get her? He thought hard.

“Cookie,” he asked one of the cooks who was telling a necromonger what to take next. They looked at him. “Do we have rose water?”

“Of course we do you think this is some-

“Can I have some?” Ilnta spoke over him, “Its for Lady Helida.”

They paled a bit and quickly gave him the bottle. He poured the rose water into a crystal clear fluted glass and picked a few raspberries from the remainder of the fruit course and dropped them into the glass. Then he picked the tray up with a grunt and carried it one handed to Helida’s table, his other hand behind his back. He placed each cup in front of the necromancers and then finally set the translucent pink drink in front of Helida. 

Helida eyed him and took a sip. She went ‘mmm’ in appreciation. “Rose water,” she said, almost like a challenge.

“Would you expect anything else?” he asked her. “I do know how fond you are of roses. Shame it only exists in the pink variety. You strike me more as the yellow,” he said smoothly.

She smiled meanly, “I’m hungry.” Well he was right at least. He tucked that information away for later.

“Of course my lady,” he bowed a little and then turned and left. As he walked back to the kitchen he rolled his eyes. If she wasn’t the heir she wouldn’t be worth even _half_ this trouble. He should have just stayed out in the Arm.

He went back to the kitchen and set his tray down in front over the line of necromongers waiting to get loaded up. “Hey!” one cried. “You’re cutting,” another said.

He looked at the line. “Lady Helida Rosalia is waiting for her meal. Would you like me to give her your name?” and that shut everyone up. That’s what he thought. He turned back to all the food arrayed. She’d liked the rose water, and she didn’t strike him as a breakfast noodle person. She probably ate like her sister actually. Meaning he knew _exactly_ what she’d eat. He put fruit on his tray, but no strawberries. Nuts and granola went into magi chilled yogurt with honey and several large blackberries. He also picked out soft, doughy, rolls, with herby butter. That was it. Catha had never eaten heavily, her big meal was lunch and often she ate a light dinner and skipped brunch, chems, and fifths all together. He got a few more things for the other girls and made sure he had extra of everything before leaving the kitchen.

Helida was waiting for him when he arrived. “What took you?” she asked.

“Forgive me my lady,” Ilnta said. “I had to make sure it was perfect,” and he set her parfait in front of her. She scowled at him, clearly furious he knew what she ate, as he put down the bread and the butter and fruit. He’d also brought heavier things for the other women, figuring them more like normal feylon who had a heavy breakfast, a light, though well sized lunch and then a large fifths later in the night after a supper snack. He gave them slices of three types of quiche he’d filched from someone else’s tray. They smiled, pleased. Helida was the only one who didn’t appear happy.

She narrowed her eyes at him, he just looked back at her. She could scowl all she wanted. That bastard Taddlin wasn’t coming back. He’d never have her. Just as he was one of the only good enough for Helida she was the only one good enough for him. He’d never let someone else have her now that he had his chance and everyone else was so horribly beneath him. His _one_ chance to make what had been so wronged ten years ago at least somewhat right. He swallowed thinking about it. He still missed Italn.

He stood off to the side while the women ate, refilling their cups without being asked and bringing the other courses for the other necromancers. He only brought Helida more fruit. On the last course he brought her a flower, a yellow hibiscus from the wall of the kitchen, and it properly infuriated her. The other girls were absolutely _smitten_. He was so wasted on this woman. Then he gathered up their dishes, bowed once more and saw himself away, back to the kitchen where he gave back the tray. The younger necromongers would rearrange the tables between breakfast and brunch which was usually just cheese, crackers, and bread, and free for anyone to come get when they wanted until lunch.

Ilnta returned to his room and changed his clothes. Shorts, a sleeveless shirt that covered his entire chest, both in bright patterns. Over it he pulled a long, black, leather, vest that was belted around his waist and hung to his knees. Last he yanked a black skull cap onto his head and grabbed his bag. He touched the feet of the statue of Daisuni as he left his room and the dormitories.

The next bell was just ringing as he left the building, an hour and a half since the last one. The girls got up, went back into their dormitories, to get ready for their days. Ilnta headed for one of the main buildings in the Garden, a large open air theater not in the middle of things, rather up against the cliff, though the stage was very small, only some dozen or so feet across, and perfectly circular. Ilnta took a door that led him into the bowels of the theater. It was a teaching theater, the main one, there were smaller ones in the main class room building, for lectures and demonstrations, with larger stages. But this one was special. It was where the tables were kept.

Down below the theater were cells, that lined the hallway to get to the holding room that led to the stage. Only some of the cells were occupied and when Ilnta walked past those within threw themselves away from the bars, sniffing, sobbing. Ilnta didn’t give them any mind.

He got a surprise when he entered the holding room and was met by Per, the High Necromonger, Lord of the Garden. Though really Lord of the Garden wasn’t saying much, it was like saying he was the Garden stable master. Per was a big man, strong, class eight, and hard as a bar of lead. He was native Nadalian, his skin a deep warm brown. Different than Ilnta’s who looked more like a Dirinnan, though his skin not quite so _black_.

“Sir,” he saluted Per when he arrived. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Per said, “at ease, I hate being saluted by family.”

Ilnta only allowed his smile to be inward, “Of course, sir,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

Per looked at Ilnta, squinted at him, but not the same Helida did. “Observing.”

“What?” Ilnta self moths flutter in his heart.

“Hadrinn told me you’re good. So today I will be observing you. No more training today.”

“Sir, I’ve never led a class,” Ilnta said, swallowing.

“Well today you will.”

Ilnta was quiet for a second, “Your daughter didn’t do this did she?”

Per rolled his eyes, “Women think they rule the world in the Garden. But there’s one thing my girls do not touch. And that is my necromongers, or the tables. Those are _my_ domain.”

“I see,” Ilnta nodded. “Where’s the healer?”

“She’ll be along,” and the Per made a little motion, beckoning Ilnta. He followed and they walked back into the hall with the cells. The inmates shrunk away, pressing into the corners furthest away from Ilnta and Per they could get. “Disgusting,” Per said. “Who’s on today?” he asked Ilnta.

“Sir?”

“You’re teaching, you pick who gets the table,” and one of the inmates sobbed.

Ilnta looked around, “I get to pick?”

“Of course. Now pick.”

Ilnta looked at them all. They were all clean, them and their cells all scrubbed every few days by necromancers and they were all well fed and while in not any good physical condition were all healthy. Honestly other than when you were on the table the inmates who were kept in the Garden were well cared for. They had some of the best care in the entire Alliance. Of course they all knew what was waiting for them outside their clean cell. The teaching table. “What am I teaching, sir?” he asked Per, eyeing a woman from the Fey’s Scar who’d been caught molesting young boys. He hated her.

“Bone breaking,” he said.

Perfect. “Her,” he pointed and the woman, who’d been crying quietly before broke down into great heaving sobs. “Women tolerate pain better. Is the bone breaking for interrogation, or simply torture? Or is it a healing class?”

“Healing class. The spectators should be a small group. Figured we’d start small for your first teaching.”

“Thank you, sir,” he said.

“You can go and prepare, Warded. I’ll have her brought out shortly.” Ilnta nodded and went to the holding room and then took a deep breath and opened the door to the theater. He was relieved when there were only a few dozen people. He knew when Hadrinn or the other teachers did their big lessons there could be _hundreds_ filling the seats. Some three dozen was nothing to worry about-

Except she was right there. He frowned. Helida just _had_ to come didn’t she? He assumed she came because she knew he was here. He didn’t look at her and went to one of the tables against the side of the theater and put his bag down. He pulled out a thick roll of leather and unrolled it onto the table. Hammers, pliers, knives, and tongs of various sizes were in the wrap. He touched each one, reminding himself the name.

Before he’d joined the Arm, with Maja’s blessing, he’d been training to work the tables. It was a privilege to only the most highest ranked necromongers, the highest class. They’d been training him at it since he’d been fifteen and then he’d gone away. The Arm had known his training. He’d only been eighteen when they’d made him head interrogator. There were few who had a necromonger’s stomach, who’d go the whole way. Only a Shade or a Clansman could have done it, but the Shade served as rangers, and Clansmen as foot soldiers. Some man from Tessit had been the head interrogator before him and no other necromonger was going to stay around long enough to bother teaching him the way the Arm did things. When he’d come home he’d been put right back where he had been, a table assistant.

This was the first test.

The door opened into the theater and the healer entered the theater. She already wore her red mask up and her healers robes were altered from the normal. They had no sleeves and the normal long sides were tied in a bow at the small of her back. Though the high collared cowl remained. She approached him.

“Hello,” she said, her skin was light, she was from the south. He couldn’t tell much about her other than her eyes were the color of the Sea and was probably twenty years older than him.

“Hello,” he said, nodding politely to her.

“I’m Clover,” she said.

“A pleasure, Clover, I’m Ilnta.”

“First time?”

“Teaching,” he said. 

She nodded. “Well we’ll be working together today. You break what I need you to and I show how to fix it.” He nodded. This lesson was an easy one to start with for a new teacher like him, he’d be relying on Clover to do most of the teaching.

“Of course. I selected a woman, I hope you don’t mind?”

“Women don’t tend to scream as loudly as men,” Clover said passionlessly. She’d been in the Garden a long time if she felt that way. Outside of those who grew up here most people squirmed at the thought of the teaching tables. He nodded.

Distantly Ilnta heard the bell at the dormitories ring. Class was starting. The woman he’d picked was brought out by Per and another necromonger, dragging her. She was gagged already, a ball attached to a leather strap circling her head. She started to thrash when she saw the table at the center of the stage. As if she wasn’t any trouble at all Per and the necromonger put her on the table and strapped her down. Tears ran freely down the woman’s face. Ilnta looked at her without feeling. Per stayed, but the other necromonger left, he probably had work elsewhere, and sat in the seat the healer usually sat in. He was staying to watch.

“Hello everyone,” Clover said, not having to raise her voice too much even with the red mask muffling her words. The theater had perfect acoustics and between its shape and the cliffs it was against she could speak at a slightly louder than normal voice and be heard by people at the top. 

“For the first timers here I am Clover Samchi, a bone healer, and this is the table master Ilnta Warded. Today’s lesson is about bone breaking and healing. We’ll be dealing with the body’s small bones today, meaning the hands, feet, and ribs. We’ll get right into it. Table master, what’s the standard number of fingers broken during an interrogation?” she turned to him.

“None,” Ilnta said, resting his hands on the table between the woman’s legs, who’d been tied ankles and wrists to each corner of the table, and leaned on them. “You break their toes and metatarsals first. They can’t run away if you break their feet. Hand breaking is when you’re done with the feet, or if you’re bad at your job,” and that made Clover giggle a little. Ilnta looked up at the students assembled, he saw some necromongers, younger than him, and they were taking notes. Next generation’s upper classes no doubt. But the majority were healers.

“Well lets say we _have_ broken the feet. How many fingers?”

“Eight,” he said. “You leave the thumbs, easy to slip out of shackles if your thumbs are broken.”

“Indeed. Now would you please demonstrate which finger you’d start with?”

“Personally?” she nodded. “Am I torturing or interrogating her?”

“For the new faces around we’ll say interrogating.”

Ilnta went around to the front of the table. “Then I’ll keep them from splintering, for you,” and he winked at her. He saw her smile behind her mask. 

The woman had her hands balled into fists, knowing what was coming. Ilnta took one of her hands in his large ones and pulled it open. “This is how you break the middle phalanx from the proximal,” he said and bent the finger back at the center joint. The woman cried out against the ball gag in her mouth when her finger broke. “Not the most painful break. If you want that you do it like this,” and he levered the middle finger now, yanking back to tear the proximal from metacarpal bone. “See?” he looked up and right at the necromongers who were watching him with rapt attention. They probably didn’t know he was a student still himself and saw him young and a table master already. Several of them nodded. Some of the healers looked pale.

“Thank you table master,” Clover said and he stepped out of the way so she could take the woman’s hand gently in her own. “How would you heal this?” she asked the class.

“Healing bind?” one boy asked, his tone soft, nervous of being wrong.

“While a good idea,” Clover said, “such a spell is useful for healing large bones like the ulna. Table master, if you would?” she asked and motioned to the woman’s arm.

Ilnta grabbed one of the hammers from his unrolled leather. The woman’s eyes were wide and they rolled in terror as he repositioned her arm so he could get a good angle on it. He felt at her arm, squeezing the flesh up near her elbow and then raised his arm back and swung down. The woman screamed as he sent a crack through her ulna. “Broke just the ulna,” he said and he saw Clover check and then nod.

Clover was about to go on when one of the necromongers’ hand shot up. “Yes? Necromonger,” she prompted.

“Sir, how did you damage just the ulna? In the situation, wouldn’t it be better to just break their arm?”

“How would you do that?” Ilnta asked. “Would you snap the arm here?” he made a line with his finger across her forearm, “Or break it here?” he tapped the inside of the woman’s elbow and she shuttered in pain.

“Either, sir,” he said.

“When one bone breaks it allows for continued motion, but pain. You break one bone you give them hope you won’t break the other. Or they think you made a mistake. When interrogating someone you need a confession from they need to feel like they’re in control. Break bones that they can live with, punish them in ways that humiliate them but don’t break them. Let them build themselves back up. False senses of hope are more devastating when lost than any other loss,” he said cooly, reciting what his teachers had told him. “Hurt them enough they want to escape. Maybe allow them the chance. Then you remind them there is no escape. You are in charge. That’s why you’d break one bone and not just the entire arm.”

“I see. Thank you sir,” and the necromonger sat back and jotted notes on his pad.

“As I was saying,” Clover said, though not annoyed Ilnta had taken over there a moment, that was what he was here for after all. For the non healers, who were learning torture, interrogation, or anatomy. “You’d use a healing bind on a break like this,” she laid her hand on the woman’s arm. Ilnta heard the whisper of her spell but not much else. The woman relaxed somewhat. “But for the delicacies of the hands and feet you need different spells, and different treatments-“

Ilnta partially tuned out while Clover lectured. He wasn’t interested in the healing. He couldn’t use magic. Well… not anymore. He was instead waiting for when she needed him again and just looked up at the faces of the students. Most were younger than him, but he saw one or two healers his own age, and of course Helida.

When he finally looked at her he saw she was staring right at him. He didn’t flinch or look away, but men her stare with his own. Ilnta knew how to bend like a young sapling, but he didn’t break. He could be as humble as he needed to be in front of these women to get what he deserved. He wasn’t quite sure just _what_ it was he deserved though. He knew he deserved better than the bad throw his life had given him. He knew he could have been so much _more_. Now his gift made him a freak.

Ilnta kept her gaze until Clover drew his attention away, “Table master,” she was saying, “would you please demonstrate the best way to break the metacarpal and carpel bones?”

“Of course,” he said. “All of them?”

“Yes,” she said, “all of them.”

He nodded and picked out another hammer, a smaller one, and a metal rod about as long as his forearm and nearly the thickness of his little finger. Clover approached him at the table as he unshackled the woman’s hand to move it against the table, laying it flat. Her hand was whole now but she still tried to snatch her hand away. “I saw you were distracted earlier,” she whispered to him as he set one end of the rod on the top of the woman’s hand.

“A bit,” he said, “Would you hold this for me? She’s very wiggly,” he meant the rod.

“Of course,” she said and took the rod. Ilnta placed his hand around the woman’s throat and squeezed. She stopped her thrashing, but was crying, her sobs muffled by the gag. “One of my students wanted to see the anatomy of the hand from the inside. Are you capable?”

“Of course I am,” he said still speaking in whispers, since any louder and their voices would have been carried to those watching. Then he lifted his voice, “Metacarpal bones break the best at the center,” Ilnta said and brought the hammer down onto the rod with considerable force. The woman screamed, her body arching in pain. “That broke one, probably cracked three,” he continued. 

He took his hand off the woman’s throat, she was too overcome by pain to continue squirming, so he took the rod back from Clover. The healer was talking about how to go about healing these bones as Ilnta placed the rod on another part of the top of the woman’s hand and brought the hammer down twice more, breaking all her metacarpal bones.

Ilnta was putting away his hammer and rod, taking a metal clamp next, when a healer suddenly raised her hand. “Ma’am, sir, I don’t mean to speak out of turn. But is this necessary?”

“Is what necessary?” Clover asked, Ilnta looked up at the healer. She was young, fifteen or sixteen maybe, with the clear, fair, skin of someone from the middle of the country without any real distinguishing features other than that her ears were particularly pointed.

“Hurting this woman?”

“This woman is a convicted felon,” Clover said, “Her punishment is the tables,” she motioned to the woman strapped to the table, “these are the tables.”

“But why? It seems unnecessary. What sort of crime did she commit to get such a horrible punishment?”

“I don’t know,” Clover said and looked over to Per, Per just looked at Ilnta and so did she. “Table master?”

Ilnta’s mouth was tight, his lips thin. “Shandra,” he said, as that was the woman’s name, but he didn’t like to remember it because doing so made her human. Not that being human would stop him from hurting her, but she didn’t _deserve_ to be called human after what she’d done. “Broke an Alliance Sin,” he said. There were only a few laws that got you sent to the tables and they were known as Sins. The worst things you could do in a country that was known to allow things most countries would have you hung for. “Does anyone know all the Sins? C’mon, don’t be shy,” he said when they hesitated. “You,” he pointed when one of the necromongers raised their hands.

“Treason, incest, pedophilia, slavery, necrophilia,” the necromonger said.

“And blasphemy,” Ilnta said and felt Daisuni’s pale, half open, eye staring down at him from the heavens even now. Though worship of different gods wasn’t illegal in the Alliance. The attempt to destroy the pantheon was. The Federation were blasphemers and said that Lemp was not a god, but a monster from beyond the veil who’d tricked everyone into thinking he was a god. In the Federation he was Densinn’s father, with Densinn as his pawn. Worship of Lemp, Densinn, and a few other gods, would get you hanged in the Federation, or burned at a stake; whatever was currently in fashion. All feds deserved the tables for their blasphemy.

“Shandra committed three Sins,” he said, “she’s a pedophile who liked to have sex with boys ages ten and under; one was her own son, so she’s a practicer of incest. And several of these boys she kept in slave-like quarters. They weren’t allowed to leave her home and she performed sexual acts with them regularly, against their will, which while not a Sin is illegal,” he said straight faced. The girl who’d asked looked green and ill. “She destroyed the lives of five young boys and their families. The high court of Surassa found her guilty of thee Sins, and her punishment was trial by the table. Are there any more questions about _why_ this woman is here?”

No one said a word.

“Good. Ms. Samchi,” he prompted her to continue.

Clover began to talk about metacarpal bones as if she’d never been interrupted. Ilnta went to the woman’s other hand and put it in the clamp. She looked at him, pleading with her eyes. He saw regret, and desperation. He leaned over to whisper into her ear, “You deserve this,” and he started to tighten the clamp.

Clover paused briefly when the woman _screamed_ as Ilnta cracked and then broke her carpel bones in her wrist. “Now that was unnecessary,” she said, giving Ilnta a look.

“Easiest way to break them,” he said, shrugging. “Also the most painful,” he looked down at the woman who wasn’t even crying anymore. She was just looking ahead, her pupils dilated, breathing hard.

Clover rolled her eyes at him and then talked on how to heal these bones and what you had to worry about with healing them. Ilnta went back his instruments, selecting the scalpels, pliers, and knives he’d been for flaying the woman’s hand open. He looked up at once point, to make sure he wasn’t missing something and saw Helida staring at him again. But she had a peculiar look on her face. Almost… confused, or like she was trying to figure something out. He looked away after a moment.

Finally, after healing both the woman’s hands Clover said it was time for the cutting. Ilnta returned to the table and pulled an extension from the side, stretching the woman’s arm out on it palm down. He strapped the arm down with several belts and attached a loop to each of her fingers that led to a spool at the side of the table so she wouldn’t move them.

The crying came again when Ilnta started with the first cut. Her arm spasmed, the muscles bunching and relaxing as she strained. Ilnta didn’t notice. He just made his incision clean along the top of her hand. He made several more before grabbing a different knife that looked similar to a fish filleting knife, but rather curved along its spine. The muffled sobbing from he gag was a mild annoyance as Ilnta worked the knife carefully under skin, parting it from flesh. Once he’d done that for the entire top of her hand he used a pair of forceps to peel the skin back so it flopped against her arm and revealed the tendons, muscles, and bones of the band.

Clover, again, did most of the talking. Ilnta simply pointed out the pieces that were hard to see and in some cases _moved_ tendons in the hand aside so the bones were more easily visible. His hands had quickly become bloodied. Once the woman passed out from the pain, but Clover woke her up. After that Ilnta applied a special brew up the woman’s nose that would make her stay awake. It was a Shade made poison used by torturers and interrogators to keep those they were working on from passing out. Ilnta didn’t know how it worked, all he cared was that it _did_. The tables were a punishment, and you needed to be awake to be punished.

Clover was still talking when the far bell at the dormitories started to ring, signaling the end of the first block of classes. The lesson was over. “Oh dear, looks like I went on too long,” Clover said, “Session dismissed,” she said and the healers and few Gardeners got up.

Ilnta put his things away after wiping each instrument down meticulously. “Papa,” Helida said and he glanced up and saw Per standing and looking up at his daughter.

“This wasn’t your class, child,” Per’s voice was the gentlest Ilnta had ever heard it and briefly he wondered what that was like. Being a necromonger was hard, painful, work. You had to be hard to be one, as unyielding as stone. But to have a chance to be soft? Ilnta wondered what that was like.

“I know,” Helida said and then Ilnta didn’t listen. He rolled up his instruments and tucked them back into his bag. Clover was healing the woman’s hand still when he turned around.

“How’d I do?” he asked the healer.

“You were by far one of the best first timers I’ve ever had,” she smiled at him and patted his arm. “Very knowledgable.”

“Thank you,” he bowed his head and then looked over at Per and Helida still talking, Helida leaned way over the railing down into the theater. “Do you know if I need to stay?” he asked. Clover just shrugged.

Ilnta’s lips thinned a moment before he went over to the father and daughter. He bowed briefly, “Excuse me,” he said, their conversation stopped. “Do I need to stay, sir? Or return the felon to her cell?”

Per looked at him, looked at his daughter, and then back to Ilnta. “No, you can go to your next class,” he said.

“Thank you, sir. I hope I did well,” and then he excused himself. As he was leaving he heard Helida say ‘I absolutely hate him’, and he sighed. She needed to get over it.


	6. Shockwave

There was a perk to being the heir of a major house. And that was that they had servants. Normal people would have a maid or a butler usually, but most could only afford one. Being a ruler house meant they had money, and money meant being pampered. Helida would never knock that life since she’d had to live in the dorms just like everyone before she became a sorceress and had to live just like everyone else. No servants there. But she had them now and it was fantastic. She could have whatever she wanted and ask people to do anything, within reason.

The Garden employed a small army of people to run the day to day things around the compound. That included hair dressers and beauticians. Helida visited them every week and had her nails done and once a month had every inch of skin waxed. Though that mainly was to help fight the smell of sweat in the heat that even in the shade could make you drip. Most people in the Garden followed the same practice and were completely hairless except for the hair on their heads.

Currently she was getting her nails done, because she could and she liked being pampered like she deserved. Her father and brother had shown up about half way through, talking even as they sat to get a hair cut.

Helida looked between her father and brother as they sat side by side, getting their monthly haircut. Unlike the women men in the Garden kept their hair as short as fresh cut grass but the springiness of Rosalia hair made the two of them just get it taken off completely. Per had a beard, but Od was clean shaven, which was exactly what they were talking about.

“Maybe you should see a mid wife,” Per said.

“We’ve gone. Papa please, you don’t need to worry about me and Dally,” Od said.

“Oh on the contrary,” and Per looked over at Helida, she smiled at him. “My rebellious daughter is never having children at this rate,” and she gave him a look, he just smiled gently at her. “And one of my children must have a daughter at some point.”

“Its nothing,” Od said, waving his hand at Per a bit as a cloth was draped across his shoulders to catch the hair. “We’ve just been unlucky with timing,” and the hair dresser worked a lotion into his wiry hair. Helida looked away from them at the man bent over her hand. He was meticulously painting nearly realistic flowers on each nail with a tiny brush. One hand was done already and she was just waiting for the rest of them to be finished.

“Go see a doctor,” Per said firmly and Helida heard the scrape of the straight razors taking off her father and brother’s hair.

“How much longer Dego?” she asked the nail artist.

He didn’t even look up at her, “One cannot rush art my lady,” he said and she giggled. “But shouldn’t even take until the next bell.”

“Ah good,” she said and leaned back a bit, having fully surrendered her hand to Dego.

“Helida,” Per called and she looked over at him. He and Od were half shaved by now and looked comical with half their hair. “Convince your _hatis_ that he and Dally should see a doctor.”

“For what?” she asked.

Od sighed, “Papa is concerned about his lack of grandchildren again,” he explained.

“You have a grandson, papa,” Helida reminded Per.

“A boy with no _hasi_ and no chance of one. I’d hardly call that a grandson,” Per said.

“Just tell Helida to marry Ilnta if you want grandchildren,” Od said.

“Od!” she cried and Od laughed.

“Don’t bring up the boy, son,” Per said, “You know she gets so stressed out by it,” and she hated them for teasing her.

“Ah, thank you,” Od told his hair dresser when they finished his head and hopped to his feet. “She’s just upset he’s wonderful,” Od teased her.

“If I didn’t respect Dego’s art so much I would get up and smack you,” Helida said though without heat and that made Od chuckle. “He isn’t wonderful either,” she said stubbornly.

“Od, please, lets not have an argument,” Per said. “What are you getting painted, dear?” he added to Helida.

“Yellow hibiscus, my lord,” Dego said, still not looking up from Helida’s nails, “too large for trimmings I’m afraid.”

“Hmm,” but Per didn’t disagree.

“And just admit it _hasi_ ,” Od said, standing near the table she was sitting at when Per was distracted in picking his trimmings. “Ilnta is wonderful.”

“I hate him,” she growled.

“Are you sure? I don’t see how since I’ve heard your gossipy friends. They’re _smitten_ ,” he sighed theatrically.

“He’s _not_ wonderful, or amazing. He’s a man, and beneath me,” Helida said hotly.

Dego touched her wrist, “Please stay still my lady, I’m almost finished.” Helida sat still.

“Well, I think he’s fantastic,” Od proclaimed.

“Then why don’t _you_ marry him,” Helida snapped.

“Oh if Dally’s jealousy would allow it there are _several_ charming men in the Garden I have my eye on,” Od said with a glint in his eye. Helida grimaced. “You asked,” her _hatis_ reminded her.

“I was having a fantastic time having my nails done before you showed up, brother,” she said and Od soured instantly.

“You should have more respect, _sister_ ,” he said.

“Children,” Per said loudly, they both turned and looked at him. “Helida, watch your tone with your _hatis_ , he’s the only one you have. Bad enough Catha could only remember that half the time. And you Od, stop antagonizing your _hasi_ , she is a gift.”

Helida beamed at her father, who was having his beard trimmed and then smirked at Od but it dropped because Od had that look in his eye like yes, she was a gift. He hadn’t even said anything and she felt chastened like she was a child again. “Yes, papa,” he said and stepped away from her. “You should get buttercups,” he said when he went over to Per. Per just grunted, the hair dresser brushing his neck to get rid of the stay hairs and then brushed it out. Per got a pleased look on his face and lidded his eyes.

“There you are my lady, I am finished,” Dego said sitting up and putting his tiny brushes into a solvent to wash. Helida waited and watched as Dego waved his hand, “ _increnddi tatin_ ,” he said and the tip of his finger started to glow. He ran it along the top of each nail, drying the paint and then applied a clean, shiny, top coat and used the same spell to dry and seal that. Helida didn’t know why he bothered. She’d just be back next week for him to strip the paint off and then manicure and paint them again.

“Thank you Dego, as usual, they’re beautiful,” Helida said and leaned forward to kiss Dego on both cheeks.

“Of course my lady, I’m glad you approve,” and he started cleaning up.

Helida got to her feet and went over to where Per and Od were standing by flowers arranged in a box. Every type in bloom all along the coast were brought in for trimmings. When a man had children he grew out his beard and once the children left home he added ‘trimmings’ to the hair. Flowers and plants that were intricately woven into the beard each morning. Usually only two or three per child, so the more full the trimmings the more children a man had, the more trimmings, the greater status. It was how men of the same ability showed off their prowess, because more children meant more potency or better in bed. Like most things men did to their appearance, it was all to show off their abilities, to gauge who against the crowd was the best. 

Helida sometimes found it rather shallow how obsessed necromongers tended to be about their appearance. The clothes they wore, how they walked, how they styled their hair, all too look as pleasing to the eye and impressive as possible. But she did like trimmings. It was so cute to see so many large, muscular men walking around the garden with flowers in their beards that they had specifically chosen to represent their pride in their children.

“I want these, papa,” Helida said picking out a yellow woodrose, the stem twisted around a piece wire thread that could be easily braided into the beard.

“Yellow?” Per asked taking the flower, which looked so fragile in his large, scarred and calloused hands, but he held it as gently as Helida had.

“Yellow is _hasi_ ’s favorite,” Od said and then Helida’s face pinched abruptly. Ilnta had known Helida liked yellow flowers. She didn’t just go around proclaiming it either so how the hell had he known? She squinted at Od even as he went on, “Jasmine is nice too,” he said and pointed at some of the small, white, flowers.

“Hmm,” and Per, not even looking or needing help because he’d been doing it so long, worked first two of the yellow woodroses into his beard followed by a collection of the white jasmine on one side of his face. On the other he put a single, small, tea rose he’d been wearing for the past few months. For Catha. He poked around in his beard a bit, moving some of the wires around so they didn’t poke him, but he seemed content. “I still haven’t show you how to do this,” Per said to Od and Od positively _wilted_. “Let me see your hands, dear,” and Per took one of Helida’s hands as delicatly as he’d held those flowers and looked at them, “Very lovely. Dego does perfect work as always-“ he stopped when a boy came into the back of the salon, panting slightly. A messenger. “Yes?” he asked, he was staring at Helida like she was a goddess and if that didn’t make her feel good nothing would.

“I’m sorry to interrupt my lords, my lady,” he remembered himself and bowed, “The High Priestess sent me to find you my lady,” he said to Helida.

Helida frowned and looked at her father, “Did she say why?” looking back at the messenger.

“No my lady. She waits for you in her parlor,” he said. “E-excuse me,” he bowed again abruptly and fled.

“Go on,” Per said, letting go of her hands.

“Its unlike her,” she said, “you don’t think its anything bad do you?” her father and brother shrugged, they had no idea. She swallowed. The last time Maja had summoned her outside of the Temple had been to grieve Catha. Helida felt cold.

“I’m sure its nothing,” Od said, “she summons me all the time, for the most trivial things. Maybe she’s going to give you more responsibilities,” he said helpfully with a smile. Helida nodded woodenly before leaving. She hoped that was it, and not something horrible.

She entered the Temple, which was empty, save for a few figures. Most were sitting in alcoves, lighting candles or burning bunches of herbs, some sat cross-legged on the floor, hands over their hearts, praying. And then there was one, bent over prostate on the floor as close to Lemp’s feet as he could get. Helida approached the dais he was at the edge of, knowing who it was. Ilnta, he was the only one she saw pray like that. The only time Gardeners bent over was at the end of the prayer songs, and then only briefly. Never just laid over their knees like that. She stopped a moment but realized she shouldn’t dawdle.

Maja was waiting for her in her parlor, a sun room that opened to a large garden with a small pond, a fountain, and tall hedges so people couldn’t see within. She was sitting on a couch, her face tight, mouth a thin line. Helida stopped just outside the room. Something was wrong and she was afraid.

“Come in my love,” Maja said, beckoning.

“What happened?” Helida asked, not entering.

Maja’s face became strained a moment, then she took a deep breath to prepare herself. Bad news. “I just received news from Galinsum,” she said and Helida’s heart leapt. Galinsum! Taddlin! She entered the sun room now.

“About Taddlin?” she asked eagerly.

Maja looked down, “Indeed,” she looked back up, “and about our sisters there,” and now Helida was _very_ worried.

“What?” she asked.

“There was an explosion,” she said, Helida’s face drained of color. “A third of the city caught fire burned. Hundreds died in the accident.”

“Please don’t,” Helida said, voice cracking.

“Our temple was in the line of the fire. It happened at night, most people were asleep before the rest of the city responded. Apparently there was a lot of smoke. Everyone in the temple died.”

Helida’s throat closed, “No,” she gasped.

“Yes,” Maja said sadly. “Helida, you know why I’m telling you this?” Helida didn’t reply at first. “We just lost two priestesses, three sorceresses, and eight necromongers,” she said. “Their bodies are being transported back to the Garden now. As my daughter it is your duty to sing for them.”

Helida felt weak, she couldn’t stop the tears even if she wanted to. She pressed her hand across her mouth to at least keep the sobs in. She cried for her dead sisters, but she cried the most for Taddlin. She’d never see him again. And her mother hadn’t even done anything to keep him from her. Lemp had come and taken him from her! She cursed Lemp then. What a cruel god he was to serve sometimes.

“Helida, do you understand what I’m saying?” Maja asked, concerned.

Helida nodded, “I will sing,” she said with a hitching breath. Then she looked at her mother, “You got what you wanted,” she said thickly, “now I’ll never marry Taddlin.”

Maja’s face was as blank and cool as the sea, “I did not wish death upon him,” she said. “He was a mid class necromonger, and like everyone else in the Garden when they pass into Lemp’s hands, I am sad to see them go. We might have disagreed about him sweetheart,” and she seemed very sorry now, “But I would never have hurt him.”

Helida nodded brokenly, “Excuse me,” she said and Maja didn’t stop her from leaving. But she didn’t know where she was going. When Catha had died Maja had been grieved with her, feeling the pain of their loss as acutely as Helida had. But Maja’s grief in this situation was detached here, and she wouldn’t be there to offer the comfort Helida needed. She didn’t even know what sort she wanted. She sort of just wanted to be alone.

She ended up going into the Temple, but she wasn’t seeing any of the people there now. She just walked past them and found herself headed for the dorms. She didn’t know why though. Helida ended up standing in front of a door she didn’t recognize and she was still trying to hold back tears even as she knocked. There was no answer and she knocked again.

“Helida?” he turned when Ilnta’s voice came from behind her. “What are you doing?” his concern wasn’t faked or forced. Helida could honestly barely think. All she _could_ think was that Taddlin was gone. Her Taddlin was dead and she’d never see him again.

“Who’s room is this?” she asked.

Ilnta came up to her, “That’s my room. What’s the matter?” he didn’t touch her but it looked like he wanted to.

For a second she wanted to be horrible and say something mean. But she didn’t have it in her. Instead, she just said, her voice shaking a little, “Taddlin’s dead.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Are you?” she asked sharply. “He was in your way and now-“ now she knew why she was here, she’d wanted to yell at Ilnta.

“He was never in my way,” Ilnta said, calmly. “And I am sorry. I know what its like to lose someone you love.”

“No you don’t,” she snapped. “How could you no one even likes you,” and now she was being mean, and horrible because she wanted to hurt someone. Hurt him _for_ being so good, for being so wonderful and put up with her every demand and jumped through every hoop and completed every stupid test she’d set for him with arguing. But that was the truth, no one in their age bracket liked Ilnta. He had no friends with their age mates.

“My entire family is dead,” Ilnta said calmly, “and I watched them die. I know what its like to lose someone you love,” and Helida was taken aback. She hadn’t known that. “If you’ve come to be angry with me you can, I don’t care, but lets not do this out here in the hall. People are watching,” and Helida looked down the hall. Several curious faces were peering out of doors. She nodded and Ilnta unlocked his door and let her go in first.

Ilnta’s room was predictably sparse of things. He didn’t seem the type to keep things for sentimental reasons. There was a broken statue of Lemp on his dresser and a few wall scrolls of flowers on the walls. She could see plants in pots out in his connected courtyard and there were several small, well tended flower bushes and even a small mango tree in the room. Turning and looking at him he looked so out of place in his all black clothes of a table assistant.

Ilnta took her hand and led her to a chair, she sat. He removed the black leather vest before sitting in front of her, right on the floor. “What happened,” he said.

She didn’t know why she told him, her mouth moved without her consent, “There was a fire,” she said in nearly a whisper. “He and everyone in the temple suffocated in the smoke,” and several fat, hot tears rolled down Helida’s cheeks. 

Ilnta sighed and bowed his head, then he crossed himself. Then he looked up at Helida, “Why did you come here?” he asked, “I figured I’d be the last person you’d want to see after learning such news.”

Helida knew. She knew very well why now. She was hurting. She was in so much heartache now it was amazing she was still alive. She wanted someone else to _hurt_ as badly as she was. “I want to hurt you,” she said, looking down at him, feeling detached from the entire thing.

Ilnta looked up at her, blinked and said nothing. He looked away a moment before getting to his feet. He stepped out of his shoes, putting them to the side, and grabbed the back of his collar, yanking his shirt off. He shed his undershirt as well so he just stood before her in his shorts. He was muscular, every muscle of his arms and shoulders defined by in this relaxed state he seemed soft. He had several strike marks on his ribs that were clearly from some necromancer’s whip, and she bet he had more on his back, most men his age did at this point in their life. At some point all necromongers got too self important when they were teenagers, talked back to a necromancer they shouldn’t have and got whipped for it. “I am yours,” Ilnta said, serious and calm, knowing what he was allowing. Helida wanted to hurt him, and he would let her.

Helida stood slowly. “I could kill you,” she said, her hand going to the whip she always carried at her hip. The many heads rattled a little when her fingers touched it.

He looked right at her, “I am not afraid of Lemp,” he said. “I welcome his touch. Everything I ever loved is dead. I would thank you if you ended up killing me.”

She took firmer hold of her whip and it uncoiled and dropped onto the floor in a clatter of skulls, she pressed the butt to Ilnta’s chest and he didn’t move an inch. He met her with a level gaze, he knew what he was telling her. “I hate you,” she told him.

“I can live with that,” he said, “at least you feel something.”

She hated him so much. He was just everything she could ever want or hope for in a husband. Dutiful, willing, powerful, polite, handsome, anticipated and understood what she wanted, never talked back to her, never told her no. He knew what he was doing and even without her hand he’d have a future in the Garden. Only an idiot couldn’t see he’d become the next High Necromonger. It didn’t matter who she married, once Per stepped down Ilnta would be voted in. Because he was so good at being what he was. And he was patient with her and put up with all of her pettiness and knew her favorite color without even asking, and what she ate, and probably had figured out all sorts of things about her without asking anyone. She’d been so mad at Od earlier because he was right: Ilnta was _wonderful_ and she hated it. Hated he was so good for her and she didn’t want him.

“Why do you put up with me?” she asked, angry he hadn’t broken off their betrothal.

“Because no other woman is worthy of me. Even then you barely are,” and she slapped him so hard and fast it left them both shocked and Helida winded. Her hand hurt from it and Ilnta was sagged in the direction she’d struck him. He breathed out, “Feel better?”

“Fuck you,” she spat at him.

“I know what I want,” Ilnta said, “You,” his storm colored eyes were intense and she felt the heat of his gaze all the way down her body. “I’ll die before I let someone else marry you.” 

She struck him again and he breathed in deeply. “You’re horrible,” she hissed. “I should just kill you.”

“Do it,” Ilnta challenged softly, right in her face. She didn’t move. “I’ve killed men in cold blood,” he said, and she could feel his breath on her face, across her neck. “I know what that takes, you couldn’t. You’re too soft, too sweet, and far too lovely,” and she wanted to hit him again. “At least when your sister threatened to kill me I believed her.” She punched him, and he took it, barely falling back. “Again,” he said hotly, sounding invigorated, and she did. She nailed him right in the jaw. “Again,” and she hit him again and the next time he looked so alive and so incredibly into her. 

She’d never seen him like that. He was always so detached from everyone. So proper and polite and stoic. But now he had a wild fire in his gray eyes and he was right in front of her. Helida felt like she was drowning because he was suddenly so close, but not touching her, he just waiting to see if she’d hit him again. In her mind she decided she was going to punch him again, because it felt good to unleash her anger and grief onto his handsome face. What ended up happening was entirely different.

Helida kissed him hard and that was the end of it. Suddenly she was being pushed onto the table, Ilnta kissing her back like a man possessed and left her breathless and hot. She dug her fingers into the back of his large shoulders, her whip clattering to the ground and completely heedless of the perfect new paint job on her nails she scratched long furrows in Ilnta’s back. Ilnta had her legs around his waist by now, kissing her mouth and then her jaw and neck. He fumbled with his belt a moment, his breath hot against her jaw and ear and she wiggled enough to get her underwear off at least one leg.

It happened quickly and with all the intensity of a fight. She left Ilnta’s back bloody with her nails and left more than a few scratches on his ass and flanks, but it was like being taken by a wave. Ilnta was a force against her, making her gasp and cling to him as he drove against her, like he didn’t even care for either of their pleasure. But it was so good. It was rough and it kinda hurt and was like nothing Helida had had before and when Ilnta was done she knew she wanted that again.

Helida lay back on the table, trying to catch her breath as Ilnta basically stumbled back a step and nearly fell onto the floor. He seemed extremely confused about what had just happened. Helida was staring at the ceiling realizing she’d needed that. In retrospect it hadn’t felt so good but she’d needed the intense feeling of what they’d just done. Hate sex more often then. Licking her lips she pushed herself up onto her elbows. Ilnta had his pants on properly and had his hand over his mouth looking at her like he couldn’t believe they’d just had sex, all wide eyed and confused. It was sort of cute.

“My,” Helida said breathlessly and fixed her dress. Ilnta continued to say nothing. “Nothing to say?” she asked and when she slid off the table to stand had to refrain from adjusting herself. She hadn’t had sex in months, let alone rough sex, and Ilnta was bigger than Taddlin had been.

“Excuse me,” was all Ilnta said and he was still trying to wrap his head around the sex. Looking at him Helida knew she wouldn’t be getting anything else out of him any time soon. He was in absolute shock and she knew she should probably just leave, because he’d be like this for a while. She leaned down and picked her whip up and it curled around her hand, the skulls resting gently in her fingers. 

She looked him up and down once more before leaving, happy she’d left her mark on him in the form of bloody scratches on his hips and flanks and definitely on his back. Helida looked down at her nails when she closed the door and unsurprisingly they were ringed in blood and some of the paint had chipped. She’d have to go see Dego again tomorrow, he’d be so upset she’d already ruined her nails. She was leaving the dormitory when she realized she’d left her underwear back in Ilnta’s room. For a second she contemplated going back but realized, he’d probably end up with quite a few pairs in there before they were finally married.

 


	7. Knife Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the new tags this chapter is very heavy in body mutilation and horror.

It was a particularly hot day. Most people got used to the heat in Nadalia and even then it was never that hot thanks to the winds that came off the bay. But today it was absurdly hot, even the flowers in the Garden seemed to droop and all the doctors had proclaimed that everyone try to stay out of the sun from eleven to four to keep out of the worst of the heat. It wasn’t to say it wasn’t festering hot out now, but the sun wasn’t quite up yet.

Ilnta was sweating his ass off. In his black leather vest that went down to his knees it was completely stifling. And the smell coming off the table because of the said heat wasn’t helping him at all. A junior table assistant, a kid barely sixteen, had messed up, cut the wrong part of the body. The prisoner had died before they’d known what had happened, bled out from the thigh. So now the theater smelled like dried blood, but thankfully not shit since they’d removed the large intestine quickly as the body had shut down. The class had been dismissed, since the mess had to be cleaned up. And Ilnta was the one who had to do it, though it was just another test, and a perfect opportunity to watch his knife work without having to worry about the felon bleeding out on the table.

Per was standing on the other side of the table, the healer was gone now, and the table master Ilnta usually helped had left when Per had arrived. Per took special interest in him, always had. Ilnta was a prodigy and he sort of guessed he’d be taking Per’s place at some point. It helped that he was Helida’s betrothed. The High Necromonger wasn’t helping, and just standing there, in a matching outfit to Ilnta, only with a fully trimmed beard and a shaved head. Ilnta couldn’t imagine how hot that made his face since Ilnta was dripping even with his short haircut and clean shaven face.

Ilnta had a knife in his hands, both of which were bloody as the day was hot, and blood was splattered on his arms and vest. Since the man was dead it was perfect for knife work practice. Usually when a table master wanted to practice their knife work they went into Nedrag and worked in a butcher for the day. But a dead convict provided a rare opportunity. Ilnta had to completely flay, debone, and dissect  the convict. At least nothing would go to waste, unlike most dead humans that just rotted in the ground, returning to the land and becoming food for hungry bugs. 

The bones would be burned than buried properly, to cleanse the remains and wash away the final sins of the living so they carried none with them to the Shadowed Lands where sins could corrupt the land and eat at the veil between worlds, creating holes. The skin would be turned into leather for rebinding important books like the Red Book or for handles of ceremonial weapons, especially those used in the chapel. The organs would be made into offerings to Lemp or other gods, or preserved in alcohol. The Wizen and alchemists in Galinsum paid good money for preserved organs, some even paid small fortunes for the organ to be rush delivered to their place of study, since most didn’t have the stomach to watch a dissection as it happened. Too squeamish. The muscles and fat were rendered into candles and fertilizer for the hundreds of gardens in the Garden. Nothing went to waste, everything was used, so that the person might serve an actual purpose in death even when they’d decided to throw their life away because of their vices.

But making sure everything separated properly wasn’t easy, or quick. Ilnta had to remove the skin in as few pieces as possible and damaging any of the organs would no doubt be noted. He needed to take his time. But the smell of gore and death was overwhelming even for him and Per’s eyes boring into the top of his bowed head and watching his hands didn’t put him at any ease.

Finally though Ilnta had mostly cleaned out the rib cage of the organs, which were all in a sealed box filled with ice. Ilnta wiped his brow with his arm, knowing he was getting a bit of blood on his forehead. He’d been at this since just after breakfast when the accident had occurred and it was now nearly lunch. “Sir,” he said and Per looked at him, “can I take a rest?” he asked and found a rag to mop the sweat on his face and neck. It was so disgustingly hot out.

“Yes, take a seat,” Per nodded and Ilnta sighed and went over to the sink available for these things. He turned it on, as cold of water as he could get and washed the blood off his hands and arms. He unclasped his vest and tossed it up onto the wall that surrounded the theater, removed his black skull cap and groaned when he put his head under the faucet. The water came from a cold water spring a mile or so outside the city and the water was icy against his hot skin.

He turned off the tap, sputtered a bit of water before using another towel to wipe all the water off his face and head. Then he threw himself onto the bench where table assistants were supposed to sit with a sigh. The heat wasn’t so bad for a few minutes but soon he was once again sweltering. Per was looking at the body now, pulling at a piece of skin here, using a tool to see inside the rib cage, and looking in the chilled box of organs. Ilnta just watched him. Per turned to him, “Your cuts are clean, your work is sound,” Per said and Ilnta felt a bit less worried about the whole thing. “For someone who hasn’t worked a table in nearly five years your skin is in perfect condition.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ilnta said. “My preferred torture is flaying. Much less messy than other things.”

“Indeed,” Per said and touched the corpse. Ilnta might not have been able to do magic anymore, but he could still recognize it when it happened. Ilnta could now no longer smell the death.

“Your a wizard,” he said, surprised.

“I am,” Per said.

“I thought necromongers were untalented,” Ilnta said and hoped he didn’t sound jealous.

“Some of us are. Doesn’t make the women like us any more though,” Per shrugged and took off his vest, putting in the back of the healer’s chair, “I don’t like to eat around the smell of death,” he said and like they’d planned the entire thing the bell by the dorms started to ring, quicker than usual, meaning it was time for lunch.

“We’re eating here?” Ilnta asked and glanced at the corpse.

“What, have a weak stomach?” Per asked.

“No, sir,” Ilnta said and looked away, “just seems disrespectful.”

Per made a gross noise with his mouth, “Man’s dead, he doesn’t give a damn. Trust me boy, when you see as much death as I have, you learn that all this,” he waved his hand at the corpse to imply the dissecting and preserving, “is just what we do to make ourselves feel better. The dead don’t care, they’re in the Shadowed Lands already.”

“That sounds like heresy,” Ilnta said.

Per looked Ilnta dead in the eye and Ilnta felt a chill. Ilnta might have been a stronger necromonger but he had no doubt that if there was any man in the world who could make him scream; it’d be him. “Bold words from a kid with a broken statue of Lemp,” he said and Ilnta felt his face go slack. “But I won’t mention it to my wife you destroyed a sacred idol.” Ilnta’s mouth was dry, he hadn’t expected such a blow. He couldn’t even deny it had happened on accident, he’d been caught too off guard, and had taken too long to answer.

“How do you know about that?” he asked.

“What?” Per asked, “You don’t think I don’t know everything about my daughter’s betrothed? I’m a man, not a fucking idiot like I’d have people believe,” and Ilnta had never been more worried in his life. Ilnta _was_ one of those people. He respected Maja immensely, and saw her as the strong, capable, leader she was. But Per was always the leader of dogs in a way, leader of the necromongers didn’t mean much in the Garden. Or at least Ilnta thought so. In that moment Ilnta realized that the reason no one thought much of the High Necromonger’s position was because… that was exactly how they wanted you to think. That they weren’t as sharp, cunning, and dangerous as their High Priestess. Ilnta saw Per in a whole new light all at once and realized his respect grew ten fold.

Ilnta said nothing, looking away and the inner door of the theater opened. A necromonger entered carrying a large tray laden with food and drink. “Sir,” he said and laid the tray on the table assistant’s bench.

“Thank you,” Per said, “have someone collect it by chems,” he said, the necromonger nodded before leaving. Ilnta picked up a glass of still cold juice and practically chugged it. He went for cold things, wheat noodles with peas and carrots and tofu cubes with some thick, sweet, brown sauce and topped with scallions. He also liked the fruit, strawberries and deseeded watermelon and he couldn’t believe someone had taken the time to carve a stag’s head into the rind of a watermelon. Everything was delicious and seemed more expertly prepared than what he usually ate. It took him an embarrassingly long time to realize of course it was more expertly prepared; they were feeding the High Necromonger, Maja’s husband, a noble by marriage if not blood. Food made in mass amounts for necromancer and necromonger meals wouldn’t do here.

“Sir,” Ilnta said once he’d mostly finished eating. Per just grunted, his mouth full. “Can I ask you a personal question?” Per gave him a stern look, and chewed slowly, but didn’t seem to tell Ilnta no. “Was Maja as stubborn as her daughter?”

Per chewed and wiped her mouth, brushing off his beard and mustache. “Maja is an only child, and her mother died young,” was all Per said, “She had no _hatis_ and her father lived in a smoke filled haze. When she was fifteen she showed up in front of my dorm room and said, ‘Per, you’re going to be my husband. So don’t disappoint me.’ So no, she wasn’t. Maja is much more practical than our troublesome daughter, knows what she wants, and gets it. Have sons Ilnta, they’re much more reasonable,” and Ilnta looked down but smiled.

“She sounds stubborn in her own special way,” Ilnta said and while Per didn’t agree out loud his face said ‘you have no idea’. It seemed they were both doomed to deal with stubborn women they were horribly infatuated with. “Does Helida ever talk about me?” he asked carefully.

“Only in the same breath she’s cursing your existence,” Per said.

“Oh I know that, she does that all the time. I meant other than that?”

“No. But I’m not around my daughter all the time,” Per said. Then he eyed Ilnta, “You’re extremely talkative today, Warded.”

“I figured I should get to know my father-in-law,” Ilnta said. “Right?”

“I suppose.”

Ilnta looked down at the tray they were sharing and ate some more. Per had said he knew everything about Ilnta. Well, at least as much as Ilnta was willing to share. Some things he didn’t share with anyone. But most of his life wasn’t secret. His praetor had sent his letter of merits along with him for Maja to read though they’d also said that Maja received regular updates on him since he’d joined the Arm. He had a feeling that Maja had been planning Ilnta and Helida’s betrothal for a while. No doubt in spite of Catha, thinking of her made him cold all over.

“You all right Ilnta?” Per asked, “You look like you just saw a jogull,” and Ilnta looked up at him. 

He almost said what was on his mind, about the jogull thing, but instead said, “I was just remembering something I saw while on tour.” It was a lie, but Per didn’t have to know that. He didn’t trust these people enough to share that part of him. Oh how different cultures could twist a word to mean something amazing, into something monstrous. Though he was monstrous so he supposed it fit anyway.

“Ah,” then with a groan he got up, “Alright Warded, you’ve had your break, that body is still decomposing. Finish up before it gets worse.”

“Yes, sir,” he said and stood, he rinsed his hands and pulled his vest back on and his skull cap, which was to keep hair from getting into the open body. He went back to the corpse and picked his knife back up Per took his spot back across the table from him. 

Ilnta started by cutting the flesh away from the ribs, getting as close as he possibly could to the bones. He worked his way down from the chest. Once he separated the rib cage from the rest of the meat part of the chest and back it was easier and like filleting a fish. The skin parted from flesh neatly and he put it in a bucket, the skin he flopped over the side of the table as he flayed the arms in neat order, only making one cut along the inside of the arm all the way down to the wrist. The hands and feet were ground up with the rest of the flesh to make fertilizer. 

He cut the skin of the neck since the head was another part entirely and not something he had to deal with. Specialists took care of taking out the eyes and the brain without crushing the skull and simply dissolved the skin and muscle off the bone. The skull was the only thing not burned with the rest of the bones, but it was buried for a few weeks, closer to the surface, before being dug up and sold to artists or wizards or alchemists or anyone else who wanted a skull. So once he’d detached the head from the body he just put it in a bucket of preservative since the dissolving wasn’t done in the Garden, up rather further inland in the city of Nyopp.

Ilnta finally finished his meticulous skinning and deboning around around dinner time. Finally he could put down the knife and he was exhausted. This morning there’d been a body here, now all that was left was the skin, hanging off the edge of the table, and globs of meat and dried blood on the table which would be cleaned and prepared for tomorrow’s table lesson. Around the table were the bins with the bones, organs, flesh, and head in them, everything in its place.

Per inspected his work, the hands and feet were still attached to the skin but the tanners would take them off when the time came. But that was it. Everything else was gone. Ilnta washed his hands and his face before cleaning and putting away his tools. “The only person I know who can take off a skin in one piece is Fahdi,” Per commented, folding the skin up into pile.

“Who?” Ilnta asked.

“Class four,” Per said, “he isn’t very strong anymore but oh is his knife work beautiful to watch. You could learn a thing or two.” Ilnta did his best not to scowl. “Your precision is good, but you’re so stiff. I’ll tell Fahdi you should have lessons.”

“Sounds fun,” Ilnta said dryly.

“Oh not in the slightest,” Per said with sadistic mirth, “He’ll have you skinning pigs for months,” and Ilnta grimaced now. “Good job today.”

“Thank you, sir,” he said.

“You learn a lot about a man by his knife work,” Per said and Ilnta looked away. Far off the dinner bell started ringing. “Go on, you’re done today. Someone will come collect all this.”

“Thank you, sir,” he bowed a little, since Per didn’t like when he saluted, grabbed his bag and left the theater. Ilnta unclasped his vest as he walked towards the dorms, his stomach rumbling. Normally he had chems since he didn’t have a very large lunch, but they’d skipped brunch and chems. Ilnta was starving… no, not quite. He knew what starving felt like, this wasn’t it. 

He grabbed a plate and piled it with food and balanced a large bowl of greens in the crook of his arm and a large cup of quickly melting ice, and went to his room. He wanted to sit, and be alone, and eat. He set all his food down on the table, the same table he’d fucked Helida on a few days ago, and that was a thought he’d never get out of his head, and removed most of his clothes. Most people walked around in just enough clothing to not be obscene, women covered their breasts, stomachs and groins, men down to their knees though shirts were optional.

Ilnta remembered the way people had stared at him when he’d first joined the Arm and wore nothing but shorts and boots. Being fully dressed was a habit he’d picked up from being around none Nadalians. Of course he’d stared like his eyes were going to fall out of his head the first time he’d seen a women who wore a crop top and he’d been able to see her navel. Or the time he’d had to work with a woman who showed off a ton of cleavage. He’d barely been able to keep his eyes to himself. Let alone the town he’d gone to in the Yellow Hills where girls wore open backed halter tops and Ilnta had been the weirdo who was into women’s backs.

It was just different. Women covered their torsos and back in the Garden though elsewhere in the Alliance it was more normal to see a stomach, or a back. Though legs and ass did nothing for him, though several of his army buddies, men and women, would drool all over themselves when women wore shorts. It was so strange.

Ilnta had gone for seconds and came back to his room to find the door a jar. He pushed it open and saw, much to his surprise, Helida standing in his room, looking around. He’d taken down his statue of Daisuni when he’d gotten home, so at least she couldn’t ask him about that since she hadn’t noticed it last time. Though they’d been a bit preoccupied last time Helida had been in his room.

“What are you doing here?” he asked and she spun, her eyes going wide a moment like she was surprised she’d been caught. Or maybe he’d just imagined that.

“I’m allowed to be in boys’ rooms,” she said.

“That’s not what I meant and we both know it,” Ilnta said, closing the door. He went and put his plate down, as he did Helida moved around to the other side of the table and ran her hand across the top. Ilnta looked from her hand up to her face and he knew it’d been no idle motion.

“What? You’re upset I’m here?” she asked and she needed to stop touching his table. He just didn’t look at it.

Ilnta decided on what was the best thing to say to her but he had a feeling she’d know if he lied. “Usually the only times you look for me is when you want to torment me,” he said truthfully. 

“Oh is that what you call it? I thought you said you were going to marry me,” she said, he knew she was goading him.

“I am,” he said, “But that doesn’t mean you don’t piss me off.”

“Oh so you can feel emotion? News to everyone,” she smirked and he just wanted her to go away. He wanted to relax after today, which had been long and exhausting. She went around the table, drawing her hand along it, drawing his eyes and gods damn her. She knew exactly what she was doing but he wasn’t going to play this game. Not today at least.

“I can feel a lot of things,” Ilnta said.

“Oh I’m sure you can,” she said, in front of him and he could smell her perfume. It was the same kind she’d worn the other day, jasmine. She had about five different ones she liked to wear regularly and she wore today’s on purpose since she rotated them out every day.

Ilnta closed his eyes a moment then when he opened them he knew he wasn’t going to bend tonight. “Please leave,” he said.

Her brows went up, “What makes you think you can order me around?” she asked.

“I’m not. I’m asking,” Ilnta said patiently. “I’ve had a very long, hot, day. I just want to rest.”

She looked annoyed with him, then his ears started to burn when to his absolute surprise Helida undid the laces of her long, sleeveless, tunic, so he could see her breasts. He did his best to keep his eyes up, looking at her face, but they were drawn down like a loadstone and as soon as he caught himself looking he jerked them back up. “Are you sure?” she asked.

He was basically staring at the ceiling now. “Very,” he said.

“Really?” and she took his hand and placed it on her body. “Because I could change your mind,” and her other delicate hand pressed it against the inside of his thigh. That made him stiffen, but in the worst way and if he’d been interested before he was now so turned off he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. It must have been obvious. “What?” she asked, removing her hand.

His eyes traveled down from the ceiling to her face, “Please leave,” he said and wanted her gone.

“No. What is it?” she asked.

He almost told her the truth. But she’d either never believe him and call him a liar, or she would and she’d hate him. So he told a lie that was just as disgusting. “When I was eight I was on a Joti pirate ship, sailing towards Dirin to be sold,” he said slowly, so she understood. “The Joti don’t have the same Sins as us. I was nothing to them, a toy, and they treated me like one,” and he saw the horror in Helida’s face. It was a lie sure, but she didn’t need to know that. It was an easy lie to believe though since pirates were the bane of the gut and the Alliance navy, and they followed no laws, no creed but their own. Joti pirates were the worst, known for their cruelty and Ilnta had heard more than one seaman in the navy tell him that Joti pirates were anarchists and didn’t just attack ships, but towns too and would pillage and rape and steal children and piss on corpses and destroy temples. They were the worst of the worst and the Joti royalty didn’t touch them after they’d torched the capital of Delcian sixty years ago killing half the royal family. The lie was easy to believe coming from the Joti that they would meet their needs in an eight year old boy.

“Ilnta-

“Please leave,” he said again.

She didn’t move though instead she asked, “How do you stand it?”

“I don’t like people pushing me into it,” he said.

“I’m sorry I didn’t-

“Helida,” he said firmly and reached over to tug the ties of her tunic closed. “Please just leave,” because he couldn’t look at her any more. All he was seeing was her sister and he wanted to vomit. Gods knew he’d done that enough serving her sister. Helida ducked her head and went around him, leaving with the soft click of the door.

Ilnta leaned against the table heavily. Gods he was awful. She’d wanted him, and he’d just ruined it. But he couldn’t do it when she did that. Damn Catha. Damn her to Adricka for what she’d done to him. His betrothed couldn’t even come onto him without him freaking out.

He sat lightly and looked at his meal. He picked at it and hummed to himself, mouthing some of the words a song he’d never sing but knew by heart. Songs his father had taught him and his brother and would never leave him, for they were written in his soul. It helped him feel better and for the first time he didn’t feel guilty he was glad Catha was dead.


	8. Smoking Chances

Very rarely did Helida go into Nedrag. At least until recently. Maja was not just the High Priestess but she was also the Lady of Nedalia and the governor of the provence. And now Helida was having to learn all the things she hadn’t before about _how_ to govern and about political games all the houses in the Alliance played. Her mother and sister had kept those things from her since she, as a second daughter, didn’t have to worry about such things. But now she had to worry about these things and learn new skills she hadn’t had before.

She was with her mother when she went to visit the mayor a Nedrag. Jan Millson was a competent man who ran the city in the day to day affairs so Maja didn’t have to worry about it. It was Helida’s first time meeting him.

The city of Nedrag, even viewed from the street, was beautiful. All the buildings were made of a nearly blindingly white stucco and the streets were formed in concentric semi circles around the harbor and docks which was the heart of the city. The roads were paved with cobble and were swept regularly. Unlike in the Garden where flowers and flora spilled from every window and across every wall and grassy patch, the people of Nedrag kept small flower boxes, each with maybe one or two types of flowers or herbs in them. But it was nice and the walk from the Sea Gate, the gate in the black wall that connected Nedrag to the Garden, to the mayor’s manse wasn’t a long at all.

Helida and her mother climbed the stairs to the manse, a building that echoed some of the architecture of the Temple with sweeping, intricate vaulting and the hands of a thousand craftsmen working on the tiniest details. The door was red and had a crescent moon shaped window at the top. Helida was looking back the way they’d come while her mother knocked. The mayor’s manse was higher up, along the Outer Ring, as those in the Garden and Nedrag called the last semi circle around the harbor, was at the top of the hill that led down to the low in the land of the city. From here she could see _everything_. She smiled. Nedrag was a lovely city with its clean lines and the turquoise water of the harbor and bay beyond.

“Helida,” Maja said and Helida turned as the door opened. A very tall, skinny, black man with a wide thin lipped mouth and kinky hair teased into an afro many times larger than his head opened the door.

“Maja,” he said, smiling and hugged her mother, “Such a pleasure my Lady.”

Maja bowed her head, “Jan, this is my daughter, Helida,” Maja said.

“Ah, the young one you’ve often told me about,” Jan said.

“Yes.”

“Hello your mayorship,” Helida said.

Jan laughed, “Oh my dear, please, just Jan is fine. Come in, come in,” he beckoned them. “I was just having brunch set out,” and Helida followed her mother into the manse. Inside it was as elegant as the outside, with large open windows for the breeze to blow through and long, white, gossamer curtains that Helida was sure billowed in the wind. The manse smelled of fresh cut flowers and as she followed Jan into a parlor she saw large vases of flowers everywhere that ran the gambit of shockingly bright and robust from the west, to flimsy and dainty flowers from the east.

Helida sat in one of the comfortable chairs in the parlor, next to her mother. Maja had said that she was just observing today, so she was intent to do so.

“Can I interest you ladies in some storm weed?” Jan asked opening an ornate box and pulled out a weed cigarette.

Helida looked to her mother to ask if it was proper. She knew Maja didn’t smoke, her mother had a lung condition that sometimes made it hard to breathe and smoking agitated it. In an open air room like this smoke wasn’t a big deal, but smoking was asking for trouble. Maja gave her the smallest nod. “Yes, please,” Helida said. Jan lit the cigarette on an ember he kept in a tin and then handed it to Helida. “Thank you,” she said.

“Think nothing of it, dear,” Jan said. “At least _someone_ will smoke with me when your mother visits,” and he grinned and lit his own cigarette. Maja smiled lightly at him, clearly humoring him. “Now, what can I do for you fine ladies today?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and putting one of his long and skinny legs over his knee.

“You know what’s coming up next month,” Maja said.

“Mm, yes. Thought you’d come for a chat. Always business, as usual,” he frowned.

“Have you prepared?”

“Of course,” Jan said. “I still have an eighty percent approval rating. I’m not going anywhere,” he smiled and sucked on his cigarette.”

“Good.”

“Uhm,” Helida broke in awkwardly, “What’s happening next month?” she asked.

“Elections of course,” Jan said. “Since the position of Provence Lord is inherited there’s very little way for the little people to get into government, and that sort of thing, or than being a representative,” Helida nodded, she knew that. “Cities over a certain size have a mayor. Its one of the only other elected positions in the Alliance. I’m also mayor of the cities of Orse and Yilladp and a dozen or so smaller cities, some that have names, and some that don’t. They all vote, one person one vote, anyone over seventeen. There are other mayors across Nedalia, but I’m the most important,” he grinned a lizard’s smile as he blew out a thick cloud of pale grey smoke. “I’m the mayor of the capital.”

“Don’t build yourself up so much, Jan,” Maja said. “You’re basically my whipping boy.”

Jan leaned forward, a cunning grin stretching his mouth out and making him look more off putting than when Helida had first seen him. “Oh but don’t I enjoy it? Too bad-

“Jan,” Maja said firmly, “Not in front of my daughter.”

“Right,” he leaned back and smoked his cigarette. “Apologies my Lady,” he said.

As he said that a woman came in. She was white as snow with luxurious black hair and clear brown eyes. “Everything all right, dear?” she asked Jan.

“Yes by lovely flower bud,” Jan said and got up a moment to kiss her cheek and take the tray she’d brought them. “Just business, just business,” he smiled at her and then set the tray on the low table. Brunch was usually more of a snack before lunch and the tray Jan set down had two types of fruit, a bowel of mixed nuts, and a variety of edible flowers.

“Ah, then you’ll be here a while then?”

“Yes, terribly sorry, love. Don’t wait up,” and he sat back down.

“My Lady,” the woman, clearly Jan’s wife, bowed to Maja and then left.

Jan was looking at her mother, clearly hoping for some reaction. All Maja said was, “Ella is a lovely woman,” and she took a few strawberries. “You should be so lucky to have her.”

“I am,” Jan said. There was a new tension in the air and Helida just sat in her chair smoking lightly on her cigarette and ashing into the tray on the table now and then.

“I hope you have something more interesting than that for why you asked me to come,” Maja said.

Jan frowned and it made him looked like a frog. “Good news from the Peony that I wanted to share in person.”

“Oh? The Peony ever have good news?” Maja asked.

“I know its like they just light to twist your arm don’t they?” Maja just made a ‘hmm’ sound. “They agreed that for the next ten years they’ll willfully hand over any necromantic girls born in Aldash-

“You’re joking,” Maja said, completely stunned. Helida hadn’t been big into politics growing up, but she did know of the heavy strain between her family and the Peony family. The provinces were border neighbors so you’d expect them to be friends. But it was far from the truth. The Rosalia sought to train all necromantic girls born in the Alliance and beyond and it costed nothing to come to the Rose Garden for study and they would even pay for passage across the Sea on the rare chance a girl with a red eye was born in some other country or for passage from anywhere in the Alliance. They would even take _feds_ into their number, though those happened perhaps once every few generations since most necromantic girls in the Federation were culled upon birth since they were an omen of evil and destruction.

Necromantic girls born all across the Alliance were sent to the Garden by their families knowing they’d be taken care of, looked after, and even worshiped. It was one of the best deals anyone could get since past mandatory schooling at thirteen all other schooling was private and could become very expensive quickly. But not the Garden. The Garden was open, for free, or any girl with a red eye, or any boy who wanted to surrender himself to becoming a necromonger. Aldash was the only province in the Alliance that kept girls from their birthright. Instead they turned them into whores and exotic performers. Helida knew from hearing necromongers talk about it, that necromantic girls were fetishized by much of the rest of the Alliance. But there were no soft, sweet, gentle, docile necromancers. They were all warrior priestesses. So the Peony took then in in Aldash and charged huge prices for their exotic, complacent necromantic girls.

It had been a point of contention between the Peony and Rosalia since the practice had begun a hundred and fifty years ago when a lower Peony had been born as one. She’d become richer even than the Lord Peony at the time and he’d made his son marry her. So for the Peony to agree to stop for _ten_ years?

“No,” Jan said.

“Then there’s a catch,” Maja said. “That _twist_ Clementine wouldn’t agree to a loss of revenue for a decade if there wasn’t a _catch_.”

“There is one,” Jan said slowly. “Are you sure you don’t want a relaxer, Maja? You might give yourself-

“Out with it, Jan,” Maja snapped.

Jan glanced at Helida and then said, “He agreed to the terms of a contract regarding necromantic girls born in Aldash on the condition that…” he paused, “that one of your daughters spends a few in Peonia.”

“What!” Maja cried jumping to her feet, her whip in her hand so fast it was like it had appeared there. “Who brokered this contract?”

“Uh,” Jan swallowed, looking afraid. “I did,” he said.

“You,” Maja narrowed her eyes at Jan. “Helida,” she snapped, looking at her daughter, “leave us.”

“Yes, mother,” Helida said in a weak and tiny voice. She slipped off the chair.

“Nothing’s set in stone yet,” Jan was saying as Helida left.

“A deal you still negotiated to go through,” Maja said with every ounce of venom she could muster. Helida left the parlor as Maja was saying, “After everything I’ve done for you.” The she was out of earshot. As she left she saw Jan’s wife sitting blissfully in the front yard. She didn’t know what was being said inside the manse but Helida did turn and look when she heard a man _scream_.

Helida looked at Ella, she didn’t seem concerned. “Aren’t you worried about your husband?” she asked.

“He probably deserved it,” she said and then looked at Helida, “My Jan can be very stupid.”

“It seems so,” Helida said. “If my mother asks, tell her I went home.”

“Of course my lady,” Ella said, bowing her head.

Helida looked back at the manse once more before leaving. There had only been the initial scream and now the mansion was quiet. She left through the gate back into the streets of Nedrag.

She didn’t particularly want to go back to the Garden though. At least not yet. She rarely came out to Nedrag, unlike her friends or their boyfriends. Girls weren’t allowed in the boys’ dorms, and boys were allowed in the girls’ dorms but there were a myriad of cheap hotels just outside the Sea Gate along with cheap smoke houses. She knew it was common practice to bring your sweetheart or flavor of the week out to Nedrag and fuck his brains out.

As she walked along the Outer Ring she couldn’t help but think of her flavor of the week. Or weeks. Whatever. She didn’t intent on keeping him. She remembered asking her papa where he was since he wasn’t on any of the table schedules and the table masters were all in _love_ with Ilnta. For him to not be around to assist them was odd. Per had told her he was working at a butcher, learning to cut and skin meat.

She wondered which butcher they’d possibly send Ilnta to. A good one, that had a lot of business, and was wealthy no doubt. She’d done her research on her would-be husband. Her mother had spent a _lot_ of money on Ilnta over the years, as much as she would one of her own younger sons. She couldn’t remember Ilnta before he’d left to serve time, he’d been so quiet, so unassuming; invisible. And somehow he’d slipped into class nine without Helida or really anyone else noticing except ‘the adults’. But a butcher that did a lot of business for her would-be husband, so he’d have a lot to do.

The problem with that was that Helida was a vegetarian. She didn’t eat meat and just being near it grossed her out. She could handle watching a person be cut up in front of her, but show her animal flesh and she’d get sick. She had no idea where a good butcher would be.

She ended up finding a crier along one of the Upper Inner Rings and asking him. He pointed her a few blocks away and she followed his directions. She found herself in front of a square, white, building with a large front window. She grimaced at seeing the display of freshly cut meat laid out on plates. She swallowed and entered.

Inside it was remarkably clean. There were live doves and pheasant in cages in the corner. Whole dead and plucked chickens and some long necked wading bird were hung up behind glass by their necks. Under the main display case was all manner of freshly butchered meat from beef to pork to mutton and more Helida didn’t know. There were also dishes of semi prepared things, like ground meat with spices already mixed in, and sausages. There were sealed pots of various bloods for sale on one counter and all the ‘odd’ parts of the animals were under another glass case. Parts like tongue, intestine, balls, and livers.

It all made Helida feel incredibly sick. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Can I help you, miss?” a man asked. He wore a heavy leather apron with dark splotches on it over a dark, wax coated, shirt and pants.

“Ah— yes, maybe,” she said, getting a hold of herself. “I’m looking for a man named Ilnta, is he here?”

The butcher blinked in surprise, “Yes. He’s in the back, I’ll go fetch him,” and he left through a curtain that hung over an open doorframe. Helida stood in the dead center of the shop, not wanting to move one way or another. For a priestess of Lemp she was disgusted by the gross display of death around her.

She didn’t have to wait long. In fact nearly as soon as the butcher went back he came back out followed by Ilnta who wore nearly identical clothing. “Helida,” he came out from behind the counter, tugging off leather gloves that went up to his elbow and stuffed them into a big pocket on the front of his apron.

“Hello,” she said, glad at least Ilnta was something to look at.

Ilnta frowned, “What are you doing here?” he asked, rather sharply.

“What? I can’t see you when I want?” she asked snidely.

He wasn’t amused. Then he took a deep breath and got over it. “Come,” and he dragged her out of the butcher and down to the end of the block.

“Ilnta— let go,” she tugged her hand from his grip and she knew it was only because he let her. He was strong enough to hold her there if he wanted.

“What are you doing here?” he asked her, folding his arms across his chest.

She was going to say something mean or snarky but instead she said, “I don’t know. I was visiting the mayor with my mother, but she sent me away. Bored I guess.”

He rolled his eyes, which was a motion she’d never seen him do, much less directed at _her_ , and mouthed something. For the first time ever she wondered if Ilnta even liked her. He was being forced into this marriage just as much as she was. Only he seemed… happy about it? Or maybe more like he was content. Goodness knew she wouldn’t like herself if she was in Ilnta’s position after everything she put him through on a regular basis.

“I’m sorry, I can’t entertain you. I’m busy,” he said.

“With what?”

“I’m slaughtering a cow,” and Helida turned green. She knew Ilnta didn’t eat meat, just like her. “No one’s asking you to come watch,” Ilnta said.

“Why?” she asked.

“Your father put me under the tutelage of Fahdi Windrunner, he’s having me learn butchery for table lessons,” he said.

“Hm! So it seems you’re not as perfect as the table masters would have me believe,” she said meanly.

He sighed, “What do you want? I need to go back.”

“No,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re done for the day.”

“Helida-

“Is Fahdi here?”

“… Yes,” he said, sounding more and more agitated as they talked.

“Bring him out here, I wish to speak with him,” and now she was just doing this because she saw how annoyed it made him. She wanted to see if he’d defy her. If he did she already knew what she’d do. Nothing like what her mother had probably done to Jan for what he’d potentially done with the Peony. But Ilnta wouldn’t like it anyway.

He frowned at her and then, to her slight disappointment, he said, “Yes, my lady,” and he left her and went back into the butcher. He came back out with a man of northern Alliance descent. Skin like the color of old paper and covered in wrinkles, he was tiny with eyes like chips of obsidian. His fingers were distressingly long and gnarled and he’d shaved his head except for a long, black, rat tail that he wove into a braid and wore like a necklace around his neck.

“My lady, Helida,” Fahdi said, and took her hand, kissing the top of her wrist. “What do I owe the distinct pleasure of your presence?”

“I need your student,” she said sweetly.

“Hmm,” Fahdi looked back at Ilnta who looked as impassive as a stone golem. “For what?” he asked.

“Does it matter?” she asked.

“Your father told me not to let you disturb the boy while he was with me. Bad influence, he said.”

“My father says a lot of things,” she said.

“Yes,” he said. “But he is High Necromonger and you are but a young heir. I will risk your wrath over his,” and Fahdi smiled at her like she was a cockroach. Her fingers twitched and they all heard the skulls at the end of her whip rattle together. Fahdi didn’t seem impressed or frightened by them though like some men did. Even Ilnta looked a bit wary. All necromongers learned to fear the whip and the wrath of a necromancer sooner or later.

“My mother is thinking of sending me to stay with the Peony,” Helida said, not having to feign angry or dislike. “I wanted to speak about it with my betrothed.”

Fahdi squinted at her, “She would never.”

“Lord Clementine agreed to hand over necromantic girls over for a decade if I went to live there for a time,” she said.

Fahdi continued to squint at her, trying to find her lie. But she wasn’t lying about the deal that had been brokered. She was just lying that Maja would ever make her go. “Lord Peony plays a dangerous game,” he said. “Very well. Warded, change your clothes, you’re done for today.”

“What? But Fahdi,” Ilnta said, “I’m not done.”

“It’ll be there for you tomorrow. Now off you go,” and he waved Ilnta away.

Ilnta stared at Fahdi a moment then looked at Helida and he didn’t look happy. Perfect! She smiled at him while Fahdi wasn’t looking and his face became impassive. “I’ll be right back, my lady,” he said and then turned and went back into the butcher with Fahdi. 

Helida leaned against one of the buildings while she waited. When people passed her they stared, though not without a fair bit of respect and awe. They might not know she was the heir, but the Marks on her face, shoulders, and arms, displayed her rank well enough. She was a necromancer, and respect was her due.

Ilnta reappeared a few minutes later, wearing calf high boots with his pants tucked into the tops and that was it. While a shirtless man was common place for her that didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate a well built man when she saw one. Ilnta wasn’t as built up as some other men in the Garden, but he had muscles where Helida liked men to have muscles. Her eyes traveled up and down him hungrily and unapologetically.

“My lady,” he said when he joined her and without prompting offered her his arm. She rested her hand on his arm. “Where are we going?” he asked.

“No where in particular,” she said, leading them. “I just decided to bother you.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Ilnta said calmly, she looked at him and he was doing his best to look neutral.

“Do you enjoy your work, Ilnta?” she asked.

“Keeps me busy, and away from jealous idiots, so I can’t complain,” he said.

“Jealous?” she asked, looking at him.

“I am marrying the heir, I’m a top table assistant, I have an actual rank in the army, and I’m class nine. What isn’t there to be jealous of me of?” he asked her. And once again there was no gloating in his voice. It was simply a fact. It also grinded on her that she should have been head over heels for him since on top of that he was also handsome and polite.

“You aren’t marrying me yet,” she said.

“Aren’t I though?” he asked, “You keep looking for me.” She scowled at him and took her hand off him and walked a few feet in front of him. “You _could_ give me a chance,” he said.

“I’m not having this discussion in public,” she called back, not looking back at him. She heard him groan and didn’t turn to look to see if he was following her. She knew he was. She made her way back to the Garden, stopping at some market stalls on her way along one of the Lower Inner Rings. She didn’t get anything, but she did talk to a florist about her hibiscus, and fruit vendor about his pomegranates and melons and other vendors. She liked the people who lived in Nedrag. They all offered her great respect for being a necromancer, though clearly none of them knew who she was. She was fine with that. It made walking around easier.

Finally she made it to the Sea Gate, an extravagant hole cut into the black wall that surrounded the Garden and was also within Nedrag’s wall. The Nedrag wall and the Garden wall connected at the edge of the Outer Ring but the black wall continued along, separating the city from the Garden. The Sea Gate was covered in carvings of sea animals. Dolphins, fish, sharks, whales, shells and starfish and all manner of things carved in a way that looked like that were rushing through the gate that in the light had an otherworldly blue shine to it. The portcullis in the gate looked like woven seaweed or kelp from the south eastern part of the sea around Gren and southern Joti. Above the gate itself a large white piece of stone had been carved into the likeness of the moon, including craters seen through a telescope. The gate was open for a free flow of traffic in and out of the Garden while the sun was up though most people went in or out during the mornings and evenings to go to work or go home. A small crew of bored necromongers watched the gate but when they saw Helida they straightened. She smiled at them and they swallowed, she’d seen them lazing about and they hoped she wouldn’t tell.

She went through the gate without speaking and followed the paved walkway towards the Temple. She could still hear Ilnta following behind her. She hadn’t dismissed him after all, and he was too well behaved to just leave without her dismissal. He followed her into the Temple and into the Rosalia quarters without asking either. She only finally looked at him, ready to dismiss him, when she arrived at her room.

The words died one her tongue when she saw him carrying a bouquet of flowers he hadn’t had before in one hand, and a bag in his other, he also hadn’t been holding before. “What?” she asked.

“What?” he asked back.

“Where did you get those?” she asked.

“I bought them?” he seemed confused why she’d be asking.

“How?”

“I spent four years in the army, working, how do you think?” It had honestly never occurred to Helida that yes, of course Ilnta would have money. Most Warded children didn’t, everything was provided for them by the state until they were seventeen. And being a soldier was such a low class job she forgot that of course Ilnta would have been paid for all that time he spent there. He hadn’t just served his mandatory two tours either. He’d been in the military for four straight years. He wasn’t wealthy by any means, but soldiers were paid enough to live on comfortably.

“Oh,” she said.

“Open the door,” he said, “we were going to have that discussion.”

She was confused for a moment before remembering. She wanted to deny him. Instead she opened the door and they both went in. Ilnta put the bag down and found a vase and went to fill it with water from the bathroom sink. While he did Helida looked into the bag and her eyes widened a bit. There was something from _every_ stall she’d stopped at. Fruit, a few bunches of herbs, a tin of lotion she’d sampled that smelled like jasmine, the necklace she’d looked at from a person selling jewelry from a blanket on the ground, a box wrapped with a white ribbon that she could smell to be freshly baked spinach buns, and a bag of crispy kale chips. She hadn’t even asked him and Ilnta had just watched her, seen what she’d wanted, and done so without asking.

Ilnta came back out with the vase full of flowers and set them on her lesser used bedside table where she used to keep her blue rose bush. He fluffed them a bit and she actually got a look at them. It was a bouquet of hibiscus in several different colors though with more yellow ones than the red or pink or white ones. “Everything in that bag is yours,” he said as he finished.

“Why did you buy me these things?” she asked.

“I wanted to,” Ilnta said, turning around and looking at her.

“I didn’t need them,” she said.

“So?” he asked. “You’re my fiance, I’m allowed to buy you gifts.”

She scowled at him, “Don’t be so presumptuous,” she said.

“I’m not,” Ilnta said. “I’m your betrothed. If you like it or not doesn’t matter,” he came a bit closer to her, but out of striking range, even if she pulled out her whip. “And you should give me a _chance_ to be it and not just act like you hate me. You don’t hate me.”

“Fat lot you know,” she sneered.

“If you hated me why do you look for me? Why do you seek me out?” She didn’t have a good answer for that. “For better or worse, Helida, we’re together.”

“We’re not married yet,” she said.

“No,” he agreed, “but I won’t ever let you go,” and the absolute certainly in his voice made her shiver. “Your lover is dead and you’ve alienated all the other necromongers in and around our bracket worthy of being your husband before I came home. Why do you resist so much?”

“I don’t _want you_ ,” she snapped, ready to be angry with him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, defanging her with how he really did sound apologetic. “I’m not Taddlin. He’s dead, and I’m sorry he’s dead, but I had nothing to do with it. So you can either move on to something right in front of you, or you can let your anger towards me consume you,” she hadn’t noticed when he’d gotten so close to her. Nearly within arm’s length now. “I’m not a monster.”

“Barely,” she said but there was no heat in her voice.

“If I could, I would change how I was born. My abilities have done nothing for me since I came here. Being a class nine is a burden more than anything. But I can’t. So I’ve accepted it and moved on with my life. So what are you going to do? Are you just going to hate me forever, even when we’re married? Are you going to hold onto Taddlin forever? Or are you going to accept that this is the reality we both have to live with?” Helida said nothing, she didn’t even look at him. They were the same age but it was clear who the child was here, and who was mature enough to look beyond themselves.

“If you need me you know where to find me,” Ilnta said, “Good day, my lady,” and he headed for the door.

Helida stood there and let him go. She hated him. She hated everything about him. But right now she hated how _right_ he was. How he could be so rational. How he could, despite how much shit she piled onto him, he could see beyond himself. He could see a future. She was still holding onto Taddlin. She’d loved him so much but Ilnta was right, Taddlin was gone. She had to let him go. She didn’t know how easy that would be, but she’d have to. There was no future with Taddlin and Ilnta was also right that one way or another they’d be getting married. Maja would wear her down and one day she’d just say yes to make her mother happy and she was just making _herself_ unhappy by fighting this. She told herself regularly how much she hated Ilnta because of how much she _should_ like him. And she wouldn’t even give him a chance, for what? For reasons that didn’t even look good even when she cast them in shadow, let alone in the light.

What an idiot she was.

“Ilnta,” she said, before he could leave.

“Hmm?” he asked and she looked at him, he was already out the door.

“I don’t want to go looking for you right now,” she said.

Ilnta did nothing at first, and then he came back inside, easing the door closed behind him and came back over to her. He got within arms length and took her hand. His hand dwarfed hers. Everything about him dwarfed her, but neither of then misunderstood where the power was. “Will you give me a chance?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she said, trying not to sound defeated.

He kissed the top of her hand, “Thank you,” he said.

She turned her hand on him and grabbed his face unkindly. “Do not even think of disappointing me,” she said harshly.

His grey eyes were bright, his lips twitched as though to smile. “I would never, my lady,” he said. “I live only to please.”

“You better. Because all my other potential betrothed have been _such_ disappointments to me. An embarrassment.”

“I won’t be,” Ilnta said.

“Good. I might not be like my sister, but I do not tolerate anything less than greatness,” she said.

He was standing nearly right against her now and she could feel the heat coming from his body through her thin shirt. He had the same look in his eye he did the day he’d taken her on the table. He liked her being rough with him. She knew how to handle that, since every necromonger in the Garden thrived on such attention. Pain was their currency and she knew that some necromongers could only get off when they were in pain, that the harder you hit the more aroused they became. Pain was something they felt only when required.

“Yes, my lady,” he said, his voice soft and dark. They still weren’t touching except where Helida held his face in her strong grip but he was leaned down to her, his face close. He was more handsome up close with his long lashes, slanted cat eyes and angular face. He was so _not_ feylon, he looked almost Dirinnan, or maybe a Rittian, but that seemed like such a long way for Joti pirates to go for a slave boy. She didn’t think she’d like foreign boys, they looked so strange to her. But on Ilnta they compelled her. She wondered what their children would look like. It came to her a moment after that that was the first time she’d ever thought that they _would_ have a future together.

“Do you desire me, Ilnta?” she asked him.

“I desire many things, my lady,” he said.

“That wasn’t the question.”

“I do not desire things that are already mine,” he said and the confidence in his voice made her want him. There had never been any doubt in his mind ever that he’d, eventually, win her over. He had never chased her because there was nothing to chase, he knew she’d come to him. She’d fallen right into his hands and for once she wasn’t angry with him.

She licked her lips looking up into his pale eyes and he knew her. He kissed her. It was gentle at first, and she savored the feeling of his full lips and the press of his warm body against hers. He wasn’t a bad kisser, but clearly it wasn’t something he had a lot of practice in. She’d fix that. She looped her arms around his neck and they stayed like that for quite a while and only drew apart when there was a knock on her door.

They were both breathless and this close she could see Ilnta’s dark skin was flushed. “I should get that,” she said in a whisper, their mouths still nearly touching, when whoever it was knocked again.

“Probably,” Ilnta said, sounding winded and exhilarated at the same time, his eyes dilated. She wanted to just ignore the door and drag him to bed though. He’d been good the first time and she had hopes he was good even when they weren’t about to murder each other.

“Ilnta,” she said.

“Yes?”

“You need to let go,” she said.

“What? Oh, excuse me,” and he took his arms from around her waist and seemed confused by his own arms. She turned from him and went to get the door. Before she answered it she breathed in to calm herself. She was surprised to find her father at the door. She quickly half closed it so he couldn’t see Ilnta. “Papa!” she said.

He frowned at her slightly, “Your mother wants to see you,” he said gravely. But then her father was a very grave man.

“About what?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “She was very angry when she came back from visiting Jan though.”

“She’s home?”

“Yes… is something wrong sweetie?”

“What? No, nothing’s wrong,” she said, perhaps a bit _too_ quickly.

“Are you hiding something in your room?”

“Papa, who do you take me for? Od?” she asked, since her brother had been horrible about sneaking girls into the Temple and banging them on places he shouldn’t.

Per just blinked at her slowly, “Don’t lie to your father,” he said.

“I’m not papa,” she said sweetly. “Now you said mama wanted to see me?”

Per eyed her a moment, “Yes,” he said.

“Where is she waiting for me?”

“Her office,” he said.

“Okay,” she stepped out of her room. “I’ll see you at dinner, papa,” and she kissed him on the cheek. Per smiled slightly at her and she headed towards her mother’s office. When she went around a corner she looked back and saw Per open her door and look in. Ilnta was allowed to be in there, but she knew her father probably wouldn’t appreciate a boy being in her room, betrothed or not. Technically only Rosalia and their servants were allowed in the back part of the Temple for any extended time. She waited a moment then Per pulled his head out of the room and walked the other direction. She grimaced. That didn’t mean he hadn’t seen Ilnta though.

She shoved it out of her mind and went to her mother’s black office. She knocked. “Mother,” she called.

“Enter,” and she shivered. When she pushed the door open her mother was sitting at her desk, fuming. 

“Hello mother,” she said, her voice holding a thread of wary fear.

“We have something very serious to discuss, sit,” Maja said without preamble. Helida sat in the chair opposite her. Maja said nothing at first, she seemed to be collecting herself. “You know Jan’s deal,” she said.

“Yes,” Helida said slowly.

Maja closed her eyes and breathed in, she opened her eyes again and said, “I think we should go through with it.”

“W-what?” Helida cried. “You want to send me to Peonia? To live with those whores?” she demanded.

“I don’t,” Maja said, “darling you have to know I don’t. But think of the good it could do to all those girls who will be born in the next ten years in Aldash. They’ll be sent here, as they should be, to learn.”

“Mother, you can’t be serious. I’m your _heir_ , and you’d ask me to leave the Garden?” she asked softly.

“It’d only be for two years,” Maja said. “Clementine said just two years and we’d get a dozen years.”

“Mother-

“I won’t force you,” Maja promised her. “If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. This will be your choice if you want to go or not. I won’t give that slut the satisfaction of housing my daughter without your express permission.”

Helida frowned and slumped in her chair. “It would be good if I went, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“What will I have to do there?”

“You will be Clementine’s guest,” Maja said. “I don’t think you’ll have to _do_ anything. He most certainly will not make you do anything vulgar.”

“You know this?”

“Jan might be a fool but he’s not an idiot. He had an alchemist draw up the contract, and you know they don’t let any loop holes exist. Clementine has already signed the contract. All that’s left is for me to sign it, with your permission.”

“I want to read it,” Helida said.

“This is a copy,” Maja pointed at a thin stack of papers on the desk. “Do not rush this decision sweetie,” she said. “If you go to Peonia, you will be there for two years.”

“Can I come home?” After a moment Maja shook her head. “Mama-

“I know. Read the contract and think about it for as long as you need. But know if you agree you will be helping an entire generation of girls to be free from Peony whore houses.”

Helida stood and took the contract from her mother’s desk. “I’ll let you my decision in a few days,” she said.

Maja didn’t appear happy, “Whatever you decide if the right choice,” she said.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” she said and then left, rolling the contract into a rube as she did so. She walked back to her room slowly feeling the weight of her position and all the responsibilities pressing down on her shoulders. She could serve her sisters and live in Peonia for two years and ensure perhaps dozens of them got a chance to be necromancers, or she could stay home. Her heart ached and she wondered what Catha would do.

She opened the door and Ilnta was sitting on the edge of her bed. He jumped to his feet when she entered. “Is everything all right?” he asked.

She set the contract on her desk and it uncurled a bit. “Grave news from mother, that’s all,” she said and left it there. She didn’t want to look at it yet, didn’t want to read it.

“I won’t ask. But you can tell me if you want,” Ilnta said.

“No, its my burden and no one else’s,” she went over to the bed. “Did my father see you?” she asked, standing in front of him.

“Uh… yes?” he said, clearly wondering if that was okay or not.

“Did he seem surprised to see you?”

“No?”

“What did he say?”

“He just said to make sure I left before it got dark,” Ilnta said.

“Take off your boots,” she said as she stepped out of her flats. Ilnta sat again and undid the zipper of his boots as Helida sat on the other side. Ilnta looked back at her when he’d removed them. “Lay down,” she said and he did so, a bit awkwardly, clearly wary of what she had planned. She remembered what he’d said about being aboard a Joti pirate ship, and that he didn’t like being pushed. But her intentions were much more pure than that.

She laid down next to him, though more on top of him, pressed against his side. “You sure you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong?” Ilnta asked, relaxing considerably and putting his arm around her shoulders.

“No, now please just be quiet,” she said, resting her head on his chest, and he said no more. 

If nothing else just his presence was comforting to her. That there was another living being with her she could find quiet comfort in. She didn’t want to talk to anyone about what it was and she knew her brother and father would press her on what she was so upset about. She didn’t bring up her duties of being an heir with her friends, and she’d never afford to be so open and weak around them. They expected her to be put together. But she wasn’t. She knew she really didn’t care about what that contract said. The main thing was that she would have to go to Peonia for two years to save a bunch of little girls who might not even be born yet. Or she could think of herself and refuse. And other than Nedalia Aldash had one of the highest concentrations of necromantic girls born each year. Compared to other magical children it wasn’t a lot, maybe only a dozen or so a year for numbers outside the Garden which birthed the most. But still that was a dozen girls a year who were basically turned into sexual objects.

Aldash’s main export was sex workers and entertainers. They ran every notable brothel along the gut, and were deeply entrenched in Alliance theater and performing arts. But everyone knew that the Peony ran the sex industry with an iron fist. And she’d have to go to their capital for _two years_. What if she couldn’t do it? She knew the Aldashi were extremely different from the Nedalians, and even Gardeners were strange to most Nedalians. 

Helida was so busy thinking that she missed when Ilnta started humming. Very softly, like the sound of bees around an open flower bush, but there. She could feel it as a gentle rumble in his chest as he kept time with his thumb that moved up and down on her arm with each beat. She didn’t recognize the song as any of the hymns they sung during services, and she knew them all.

“What is that?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“That humming. What song is that?”

“Oh— it doesn’t really have a name,” he said. “Just… just something me and my brother used to sing. I barely remember the words now.”

“Oh,” Helida said.

“Also, its getting dark, Helida. I should leave,” he said.

She sighed and sat up, “Probably. My father is very strict about people not our family in the Temple past dark.” He smiled, “What?” she asked, she hated when he smiled. He was too handsome and made it hard for her to hate him.

“Just a few weeks ago you tried to get me in trouble with that,” he reminded her.

“Don’t think too highly of yourself,” she said.

“Of course,” he said. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his boots. “I will see you tomorrow, my lady,” and he leaned across the bed and kissed her again. She held him there for perhaps longer than either of them intended but these things happened. Then she let him go and he left and she enjoyed the view of watching him walk away.

Once he was gone Helida fell back onto her bed with a huff and stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes. “What a mess,” she sighed to herself and rubbed her face and rolled onto her stomach, pressing her face into her pillow and stayed like that until someone knocked on her door and called her to dinner.


	9. Sensitivity

Ilnta was sitting in class, because despite being excellent in most things a necromonger of his caliber was expected to be there was one thing he was awful at. All upper class necromongers were expected to be able to draw. They were the source of all anatomy books in the Alliance, as they more than anyone had the best knowledge of anatomy and just _what_ was under a person’s skin. Ilnta had seen the most recent book drawn by Per and he was so envious of his skill he was green. All done elegantly in ink with the actual text done by older priestesses who had such neat and beautiful writing it was enough to make a man cry. The other upper class necromongers were equally skilled in drawing the body and bones and the brain and all the little details.

Ilnta, however, was a terror.

His hand was too heavy, his lines too thick, and he could never get the proportions right. It was his one major failing in being a class nine and frankly why he’d liked being in the army so much. He didn’t have to draw there. Everyone had seemingly forgotten he was bad at it until yesterday when Per had tasked him with the drawing a rib cage before it was burned and buried. The High Necromonger hadn’t been impressed in the slightest.

So he was in a lower class with teenage boys who were the next generation of powerful necromongers, relearning the basics. There was no option for being a terrible artist here. When he married Helida one day he’d take over the mantel of High Necromonger, and his skills would be in great demand in all things. Including books he illustrated. Except he wouldn’t be illustrating _any_ books at this rate. There were boys five years his junior with more artistic skills than him. Damn it all, Daisuni had given him one creative outlet he wasn’t meant to have more it seemed.

Yet he continued in his task. Once he was done here he needed to go find Fahdi and it would be another long day butchering animals. He was barely paying attention to what he was drawing, and rather was thinking about the oxen Fahdi was having him take apart. His knife work in removing skin and flesh was fine, but Fahdi, much like Per, said he was so stiff in doing so.

Something moved out of the corner of Ilnta’s eye and he looked. It was the teacher. A necromonger with graying hair and a tall forehead from where his hair was thinning. He looked at what he’d been drawing, which was _supposed_ to be a bouquet of flowers. It looked more like a monster, like the ones he’d seen as a boy before he’d been taken away.

“Is there a reason you’re just drawing scribbles, Warded?” the necromonger asked.

“Uh… Sorry sir, I’m really out of practice,” Ilnta said and turned to a new page in the big sketch pad, the monster he’d seen just a figment of his imagination since all it was was squiggles.

The necromonger snorted contemptuously at him, “The army is a poor place for a powerful man,” he said, looking down at him. “Robs you of your skills.”

“Sir,” was all Ilnta said but just barely refrained from rolling his eyes.

“Continue,” and the teacher moved on to the boy next to him. Ilnta looked at what he was doing and saw that the kid, no more than sixteen years old, had amazing skills. Not like Per, but compared to Ilnta it was as good as the real thing.

The next four bells were torturous. Though the classes changed every bell and a half Ilnta had to stay for three in a row. He didn’t have regular classes like other nec’ons since he’d technically ‘graduated’ into the ranks of necromongers. He took the classes the High Necromonger ordered him to take. So he was here until lunch once he’d finished serving breakfast, and then after serving lunch Fahdi had him until dinner unless Per had use of him elsewhere. He’d rather pluck and skin chickens and pheasants all day than a half day of drawing lessons, and he hated plucking bird feathers.

Finally the lunch bell rang and the drawing instructor dismissed them. Ilnta was nearly about to lose his damn mind! He packed his graphite, charcoal, and drawing pad up and left without saying anything to anyone. He just wanted lunch and then he could do something he was good at, like skinning.

Lunch was like breakfast. Necromongers ate first, all their food laid out buffet style and then the top ranked ones got the privilege of serving the necromongers during their lunch session. Lunch was light in the Garden, mostly leafy greens, fruits, and nuts, no dairy since it could and sometimes did curdle in your stomach if you were doing things in the sun. Unlike breakfast though the buffet was cooled by ice magi to help further combat the heat of the midday sun and a temporary shelter was erected by the younger necromongers to cover the food.

Ilnta arranged himself a salad with lettuce and spinach topped with watermelon, berries, cold wheat noodles, and fat pecans. He went to his room to eat like most of the necromongers and to be out of the sun.

He threw his supplies from his morning class onto the floor and went to sit at his table. He ate in a mood. He wished he didn’t have to be forced to perform like this. He was skilled at other things and just because he couldn’t draw at all didn’t mean he didn’t have other creative abilities. 

He sulked a bit over his lunch. Not that anyone knew of course. He could barely do it when he was alone, forget in front of others. Not to mention what if… it went wrong. He’d been too young when Italn had died. He didn’t know what would was supposed to become of him, what it meant to be a single voice. The only thing he’d really known, because he could see it when he looked in the mirror, was that his eyes had changed color.

Ilnta started when there was a knock on his door. There was only a handful of people it could be and he didn’t want to see any of them. He just wanted to sit and sulk and mope about his uselessness.

Instead he got up from his chair and went to the door. When he answered it he wasn’t surprised to find Helida standing there. “Ilnta,” she said.

“My lady,” and he let her come in. She walked past him gracefully. As he closed the door he asked, “What do I owe the pleasure?”

“We’ve both been so busy as of late,” she was half turned from him.

“When has busyness ever kept you from finding me?” Ilnta asked. She gave him a look but it wasn’t nearly as hostile or heated as it could have been. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m leaving,” she said.

“Alright? I don’t see how this warranted a personal visit during my dinner.”

“I’m going to be gone for two years,” she said. “My mother said I needed to tell you, since you’re my fiance.”

Ilnta blinked several times. Mentally he was cursing in a language far fouler than feylon because despite his father and uncle’s best efforts he and his brother had heard _plenty_ of foul language from the men in their village. Of _course_ just as they were starting to get somewhere Helida was leaving. And they’d been doing so well! It had been a week since he’d stayed with Helida till night fall, and she’d actually seemed to be enjoying his company as of late. She’d been a little stressed out the past few days but he figured that was normal for an heir, Catha had been stressed out too.

“Where are you going?” he asked, keeping his voice neutral.

She sighed, “I’m going to Peonia.”

“You’re going to the capital of a province of a house your mother doesn’t get along with?” not that he didn’t have every right to be confused. Maja and Clementine butted heads whenever the province lords got together over all sorts of things from friendly rivalries in gymnastics. to nearly flaming hatred about necromantic girls. They were cordial most of the time, but Maja and Clementine were cool to each other the rest of the time, hating and respecting each other too much to start any real fights. Unlike Maja and the newly appointed Wyrm Lord Jollen. He’d just heard from his friends who were friends with flighters that they’d nearly started a non Feytol civil war the first time they’d been in the same room for the crown prince Teldin’s eleventh naming day celebration.

“Yes,” Helida said calmly.

“Why?”

“Because my province needs me to,” she’d been psyching herself up for this, like if she said it enough to enough people she’d feel it. “So I will go.”

Ilnta frowned a bit, “What about me?”

Her lips went thin, “You’ll have to stay here.”

“Oh, so another way to get rid of me then?” Ilnta asked meanly.

“You think I _want_ to go to Peonia?” she demanded. “I would much rather stay here. By Anai I’d even rather marry you than have to leave my home. But its the right thing to do, so I’m going. You can’t come. No one can come,” she ended a bit weaker than he was sure she meant to. “I can’t even visit or enter Nedalia or even visit other parts of Aldash without permission.”

“You’re letting yourself become a prisoner,” Ilnta said. She didn’t look away, but she did swallow.

“For the good of my sisters and my province, I would do anything,” she said firmly.

“Well not like I can stop you anyway.”

“No,” she agreed, “you can’t.”

Ilnta said nothing for a moment. “I’ll be here when you return,” he said. “Unless that mockery of a Lord intends to attempt to marry you to one of his sons.” He was surprised when Helida paled to the color of ash and he realized he’d just voiced a fear she’d had herself but hadn’t wanted to voice lest it make it true. He went over to her and helped her sit on his bed. She held onto the hem of his pants so he wouldn’t move away. “Helida?” he asked.

“You don’t think he would would he?” she asked, still very pale.

“I think the Peony are like our house, and they wouldn’t have become so great if they weren’t capable of great things,” Ilnta said.

“I won’t marry some Peony brat,” she said harshly.

“I don’t doubt,” Ilnta said and sat next to her. “I mean, you’ll barely marry me.”

She gave him a stern look and he smirked a little. “You’re teasing… gods—“ she looked away from him and he laughed a little.

“When are you leaving?” Ilnta asked.

“After lunch,” she said softly. “I’ll arrive in a few days.”

“I’ll write,” he said. She gave him a look and he smiled again. She scowled at him even more.

“I don’t like you sarcastic,” she said.

“Apologies,” and that just made her scowl more. “Don’t look like that, you’ll get wrinkles,” he said gently and smoothed his thumb across her forehead and her cheeks where creases had formed from her scowling. She turned away, annoyed with him, or at herself. He wasn’t sure which. He just sat next to her and when he put his hand on her thigh she grabbed it and squeezed his fingers. “Your mother would never make you marry a Peony,” he reminded her gently.

“She’s making me marry _you_ ,” she said.

“Yes, but I’m good enough for you,” he leaned over and put his chin on her shoulder. “Not like those Aldashi whores. They wouldn’t know what do with a woman like you,” though to be fair Ilnta sometimes didn’t know what to do with Helida either. Rosalia women were always a challenge apparently. “They’d cut themselves on your thorns,” and he kissed her shoulder and stroked the top of her hand with his thumb. She squeezed his hand back.

“They would,” she said fiercely. “They say roses don’t even grow in Peonia,” she said, almost thoughtfully.

“Well then you’d be like bringing blue roses to the Garden. A rare delight.”

She turned and looked at him again, their heads nearly colliding, which would have been a mood killer for sure. “More like an oleander,” she said.

“Much worse than a rose. Be careful you don’t poison those Peony, they’re still your neighbors.”

She huffed, “I know.”

“You’ll be fine. A rose in a different garden is still a rose,” he reminded her.

“Yes, I am,” but she didn’t seem so beat down now. In fact she seemed significantly more confident now than she had been when she came in.

“Am I allowed to visit?” Ilnta asked, getting up from the bed.

“I don’t think so,” Helida, “Clementine wants me completely cut off from anyone in my family or my friends as the contract said I wasn’t permitted those sorts of visitors.”

“Huh, good thing I am neither your family, or your friend,” Ilnta said thoughtfully.

“Ilnta,” she said sternly.

Ilnta looked over his shoulder at her as he went to the table, “What? I’m not married to you yet, and we both know you suffer me at best.”

“I do,” she said, her eyes narrowed. 

“Friends don’t suffer each other,” he said as he sat at the table again. “Would you like lunch before you go?” he asked.

“I ate already,” she said.

“Was there anything you needed of me?”

“I suppose not.”

He looked over at her, “Well I am hungry. If I may?”

“Yes, of course,” she said softly.

“Thank you, my lady,” he nodded at her and then turned to his lunch, thinking.

“I want you to accompany me to the border of Nedalia,” she said. Ilnta looked at her as if to say ‘I thought you just said you didn’t need me’. “Clementine is sending someone to meet me on the road. I assume it’ll be one of his sons.”

“Or a daughter,” Ilnta said once he swallowed. “I’ve heard he has daughters to rival even Andonine herself.”

“Well they will be there. I want them to see you. So they know what my betrothed looks like so they know what will come for them if they decide to lay a hand on me.”

Ilnta’s eyes grew sharp and dark when he looked at her, “Of course,” he said. “I almost hope they do,” and she smiled a little half smile.

“When you finish lunch come to the Rose Gate. We’ll be leaving once you arrive,” and she got up from the bed. Ilnta’s brows went up in surprise when she walked over to him and while she didn’t kiss him she did run her hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. Then she turned and left. That was perhaps the _most_ confusing thing she’d done since he’d met her. He understood the hate and the distrust and everything else. But _that_ confused him. He stared after her for several moments before turning back around and quickly finished his lunch.

Once finished he went and dressed for riding. He assumed he’d be borrowing one of the Garden’s horses since he didn’t own one. A thought occurred to him as was putting on a different pair of pants that once he married Helida he’d be able to own his own horse. That made him sort of excited honestly. He’d been a foot soldier while he served time and foot soldiers weren’t allowed to ride horses, not even Catha’s favorite necromonger. He didn’t make enough money to pay for a horse either, but once he was married into a noble family he could have one. Hell, he could have basically whatever he wanted.

No bad for boy who’d come from nothing. Who’d lost his fathers, his twin, and his entire village. He’d literally been the lowest of the lows, and now it was like he was marrying into royalty. Had it been a different time, before Nedalia became part of the Alliance, he _would_ have been marrying into royalty.

Ilnta finished dressing, boots with his loose pants tucked in, the traditional Nedalian clothes for men. He also put on a belt and clipped the worn leather sheath of his machete to his left hip. He also attached his medallion to the belt, a white ceramic circle about the size of his palm. It had a horse with two feet raised stamped on the front. The mark of a Sergeant of the Alliance Arms, the highest ceramic rank just before bronze. Most necromongers never even made it to Corporeal, and only the rare few ever made it past ceramic. Ilnta would have made it into bronze if Catha hadn’t died. Maybe he could have even made it into silver if he’d been _very_ lucky. No woman in the Garden would have wanted him then though. Men who were too good in the military were undesirable to necromancers.

Fully dressed Ilnta left his room and walked down to the Rose Gate in the south part of the Garden that led out to the Sea Road, which ran the length between Nedrag and Peonia. Lady Spring Peony had constructed the road as a goodwill gift to the High Priestess about two hundred years. Rumor was they’d been something like lovers, though Ilnta thought that was just wishful thinking by the Aldashi who were prone to over romanticize everything.

There was a party milling around the inside of the Garden by the Rose Gate, everyone on horses but a wagon was going to be pulled along behind with Helida’s luggage. “Sorry for the wait,” Ilnta said as he scanned those accompanying Helida on her way to the Aldashi-Nedalian border. It was four other necromongers and two necromancers Ilnta didn’t know. He didn’t see any of her family.

“We weren’t waiting long,” one of the necromancers said and then looked over at Helida. If the look meant anything it was lost on Ilnta.

“Sir, your horse,” one of the necromongers prompted him. They were holding a secondary set of reins and Ilnta’s eyes went to the horse it was connected to. They were attached to the bridle of possibly the scariest horse Ilnta had ever seen. It was the color of jet and was tall with long legs and a thick chest and a huge head with blue eyes. It looked unnatural and Ilnta was slightly intimidated by the creature as it was by far the largest horse he’d ever ridden. He’d seen knights with their massive war horses in the Arm, and wizards with their strange long legged horses that were trained to not be spooked by magic. But this creature wasn’t like any of those.

“Thank you,” Ilnta said and mounted up, almost needing a second boost to get seated. Ilnta wasn’t a very short man but the horse was nearly too tall for him.

“Lets go,” Helida’s voice was short and stern.

“My lady,” the necromongers said, Ilnta barely echoing before they followed her out through the Rose Gate.

Helida set their pace, a swift canter down the Sea Road, heading south towards the border. Ilnta had to hand it to her, she didn’t even look back at the Garden as she rode. She just looked straight ahead her long braided hair pulled back and away from her face, the ends blowing in the wind that came off the Shard.

Because of their late start, which Ilnta was _sure_ was intentional, they had to stop a few bells later at the town of Orfewl to spend the night. The entire ride down to Orfewl Helida rode up front with the two necromancer girls and Ilnta was sure they didn’t stop talking the _entire_ time. He’d never met any of Helida’s friends, he assumed he wasn’t allowed. He was barely allowed to be around Helida half the time as it was. Ilnta stayed quiet and the other necromongers talked amid themselves but the conversation was sparse.

Orfewl was a big town that traded along the Alliance coast but didn’t across the Shard. They arrived as the sun was sinking into the Sea and the inn they stayed at bustled to get everything in order for Helida’s unannounced arrival while they saw to their own horses.

Ilnta sought Helida once he’d seen to his horse. She was busy dawdling with her creamy colored mare with a white blaze even as he friends left the stable, complaining about wanting a bath and some food. “Helida,” he said, she looked at him.

“Enjoy your horse?” she asked him.

He came up short and then said, “He is very tall,” but had been a very well mannered animal all things considered.

She giggled, “He is Sostic stock,” she said, petting her mare’s face. “They think horses with blue eyes are gifts from gods. Most people outside the province think they’re frightening,” she looked at him slyly, “a scary horse for my scary betrothed.”

“The Peony sent for you will certainly remember it,” he said. “Come, lets go see what the innkeeper and her husband have in the way of _anything_ we might be able to eat,” he offered her his hand. She took it and they left the stable together and went into the building where the necromongers were arranging for food to be brought to their rooms.

“My lady,” one said when he noticed her.

“Is everything all right?” she asked, they seemed distressed.

“There aren’t enough rooms for all of us.”

“How many are there?”

“Three.”

“Well Nita and Lacy can stay in the same room, you four can work something else,” she looked at Ilnta, “we will share a room,” and then back towards the necromongers. “Unless my friends want _company_ ,” and not a single one of the necromongers didn’t flush, even though two of them were too dark to really show it. They all knew what she meant. “Now which room am I in?”

“Our largest, my lady,” the innkeeper piped in. “Its on the third floor, I’ll show you,” she said nervously.

Helida smiled sweetly, “Thank you,” she said then turned back to the necromongers without humor, “Make sure the food they bring to our rooms is proper.”

“Of course, my lady,” and the four men inclined their bodies to her. Ilnta followed after Helida silently as they climbed up to the third floor. “Here it is, my lady. I’m sorry we don’t have anything better,” and the innkeeper opened the door.

Helida walked in, it was a nice room with a large bed and a partially enclosed bathroom. It also had a table and two chairs by the window that looked out towards the Sea. “Its lovely, thank you,” Helida said graciously.

“I’m glad you find it suitable, my lady,” the innkeeper stammered happily. “Will you be staying for breakfast in the morning?”

“Yes. We eat a light breakfast.”

“Of course,” she nodded quickly.

“If you need me for anything call for my fiance, he will answer any questions you have,” and they she was inside the room properly. Ilnta nodded at the innkeeper who trembled a nod back and then he followed Helida into the room. “What a day,” she sighed once the door was closed. “Ilnta,” she said and it was the kindest she’d ever said his name, “draw me a bath, I want to clean before dinner.”

“Of course,” he said and went to the three walled bathroom and turned on the water. He sat on the edge of the edge of the tub, testing the water with his hand to make sure it was the correct temperature for Helida. Catha liked her water so hot it steamed even in the middle of summer. He’d never drawn Helida’s bath but she was so unlike her sister. He made the water just below the temperature of his skin, cool to the touch but not cold. The water filling the bath he went around the open side, “Its fill-“

Ilnta found his voice caught in his throat. Helida had removed all of her clothes save for her small clothes. And they certainly _were_ small. She was picking through a small bag she’d carried with her on the back of her horse for a fresh set of clothes. Ilnta had to swallow to wet his throat and remind himself to blink so his eyes didn’t fall out of his skull. Even in the rest of the Alliance he’d never seen a woman this naked before. He could see the toned flat of her stomach, though there was a soft paunch above her groin. She filled out her brassier fully and Ilnta had never noticed till now because most Nedalian shirts worked to conceal or diminish a woman’s chest because breasts were for babies. Their husbands could enjoy them too, but unlike in other major parts of the Alliance they weren’t as sexualized.

Helida’s body was covered in Marks. The sweeping necromantic, living, tattoos that covered her arms, parts of her thighs, and the left side of her face that also held her red eye. He was so used to seeing the Marks everywhere that it was a shock to him that her entire torso was naked of them. Ilnta felt himself stir and wanted her badly.

She looked up, noticing him watching her, “What was that?” she asked, her long braided hair falling over her shoulder.

“I want to make love to you right now,” Ilnta said and couldn’t believe that had just come out of his mouth. Apparently Helida couldn’t either because her mouth dropped open staring at him.

“What?” Ilnta blinked out of his stupor and then went back into the partially enclosed bathroom and turned the tap back off. “Ilnta,” she called. Ilnta came out from behind the wall sure of himself now. “What was that about?” she asked when he approached her.

He looked down at her when he got close, “You are very beautiful,” he told her, “Its almost unfair really.” She looked up at him, her mismatched eyes meeting his own dull, grey, ones. 

“You think so?” she asked. “You’re the one who’s unfair.” He just rose a brow at her. “So perfect, and I hate you,” she sneered.

“No you don’t,” he told her. “You want to, but you don’t.”

“So sure of yourself,” she said.

“If there is one thing I’m sure of, its me. And that I want you.”

“And why should I let you?” she taunted him.

“Its me, or an Aldashi whore,” he reminded her smugly and she scowled at him.

“So full of yourself,” she seethed. Ilnta fed on it. He honestly loved her angry. It was such a visceral, primal, emotion towards him. He could remember his father telling him and his brother that all power came from your most primal emotions, that all song flowed forth from the river of your rage, your lust, or your greed. Ilnta felt all those things now and he knew Helida did too by the way her eyes lingered on his lips and her pupils dilated. She was angry but wanted him and wanted every inch of him because as much as she hated him she also had become loath to the idea of anyone else with him. He could tell by the way she snapped at him or the few times he’d talked to other necromancers. She was envious of any moment he spent with another woman. 

Ilnta just fed on it, soaking it in, and loved every moment. He was like a sponge and a mirror, reflecting it back at whoever felt that way towards him. For a moment he even felt a tremble of an old song under his skin before he forced it down. That time was over, and would never be back.

“I’m not the only one who is a bit full of me,” he smirked and Helida’s eyes widened, scandalized. He lifted her up one handed and deposited her on the side of the bed. 

She didn’t resist him when he fumbled open his pants and took her, instead grasping at him with nails like iron spikes. She seemed intent to draw blood from his back even as she gasped his name against his ear. Like last time their love making was brutal and harsh and neither of them were kind to the other. Ilnta doubted that Helida would have tolerated such soft caresses or gentle words and he didn’t know if he was capable of them.

When they were finished Ilnta was left winded and could feel where the skin on his back had been parted. He bled slightly but didn’t feel the pain of it, instead it was just a warm feeling against his back. Unlike last time he didn’t feel disorientated or confused by his actions. For one of the first times he’d known Helida he actually felt like he had some sort of control over the situation and wasn’t just reacting to her or any of her tantrums. 

Then she did something that put him off center instantly. She stroked the back of his head, her breath long puffs of air against his ear. “Well that was something wasn’t it,” she breathed. “Get off me.” 

Ilnta stood up, still trying to catch his breath as Helida sat up and he watched as she unclipped her bra. She got up and shimmed out of her undergarments and walked right past him like he wasn’t there. His head spun around, watching her as she walked over to the bathroom, his eyes drawn down to her hips and the succulent line of her back until she was out of sight behind the wall. “Over here,” she ordered when he heard the water start to go again. “And you better be naked,” and Ilnta felt himself shiver because there was a promise of punishment if he wasn’t.

Instead Ilnta finished taking off his clothes. He put his boots at the end of the bed and removed his pants and belt properly, putting his effects on the table next to the bed. Then he went over to the partially enclosed bathroom. Helida was already in the bathtub, her long hair coiled up on top of her head and tied to itself to keep it up. She looked at him when he came into view.

“Come here,” she said after looking him up and down, but not like she usually did, like he was a piece of meat, or an animal. He did as ordered and she sat up in the bath and he watched water slide down between and around her breasts. He desired her again. But then who wouldn’t? “What are thinking?” she asked him.

“That I want to have sex with you again,” Ilnta said truthfully.

That made her laugh, “Good answer. Join me,” she said and what she said surprised him so much it took him a moment to obey. “If you’re going to act like my husband you might as well act like my husband,” she said as he got into the tub with her.

“The only reason I’m not your husband is because you’re stubborn,” he said.

“And you are full of yourself,” she snapped.

“Well why shouldn’t I be?” he asked. “As you said; I’m perfect.”

“Fuck you,” she wasn’t unamused.

Ilnta leaned forward, into her space, nearly coming nose to nose with her, “If you would,” he said and she looked about to smack him. “Or would you like me to do it?” She wasn’t even angry with him. She was angry she wanted it.

She pushed him away, to the other side of the tube, water sloshing out and running down the slanted floor into the drain against one of the walls. Ilnta was then pleasently surprised when Helida joined him on his side of the tub and straddled his thighs and then grabbed his face. “You need to learn respect,” she hissed at him. Ilnta looked at her and felt like his stomach was a rock and didn’t feel nearly as confidant as he had a moment ago. “Nothing to say for yourself?” she demanded and for a moment he saw Catha’s face overlaid on top of Helida’s.

“Apologies,” he said, feeling suddenly sick.

She frowned at him, but it was with concern and not anger. He realized that it had been part of her game, that she expected some sarcastic remake. “Are you alright?” she asked, “You look like you just saw a jogull,” and her hands turned gentle on his face, cupping either side of his face. 

Ilnta knew he had to lie to her again. He didn’t want to tell her the truth, but he didn’t like lying to her. One day he’d tell her about the true nature of her sister, but not today. “I just had a flashback, from when I was a boy,” he lied, “with the pirates. Forgive me I uh… I don’t think I can now,” and he wouldn’t meet her gaze. He didn’t want to potentially see Catha looking back at him with those fake eyes of concern when he told her he didn’t want to do what she said, or that he was uncomfortable.

“Fine,” she said but didn’t sound upset, she didn’t get off him either. “At least help me bathe.” He glanced at her and saw no trace of her sister, just her. He nodded and when she found the soap he helped her clean, which he knew he should know to do as her husband. Then she helped him, and even cleaned his hair, which wasn’t like hers and needed to be washed more often. The same nails that had made his back bleed now lightly scratched at his scalp, working in the shampoo before Ilnta poured water over his head to wash it out. While he was rinsing he felt Helida get off him and get out of the bath but he didn’t rush after her.

Ilnta was still annoyed with himself. The bitch was _dead_ so why did she continue to ruin Ilnta’s life? He just wanted to be with Helida. She was everything her sister wasn’t. But every time he was even a little reminded that the two were related he fell apart. He hated Catha. He hated her and wished he’d never known her.

He rubbed his face miserably before getting out of the bath, grabbing a towel to dry off. Helida was already dried and was dressing herself, putting on her small clothes. Ilnta went up behind her and ran his hand down her back and he felt her shiver. He wondered what she was thinking, but didn’t ask.

“Feeling better?” she asked him.

“Yes,” he said softly, “Sorry I ruined the mood.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time you ruined my night,” she said.

“I think your mother telling you you were marrying me still wins,” he said. 

She laughed a little, turning around to face him and put her arms around his neck. “Yes it does,” she agreed. “I thought it’d be in your best interest to not remind me.”

“Sometimes I’m an idiot who doesn’t know when to stop,” Ilnta said and he nearly was about to kiss her when there was a sharp rapping on the door and without asking it was opened by one of the necromancers.

“Helida are you coming down for— dinner,” it was the light skinned necromancer and when she saw them her entire face turned the color of a ripe tomato. “O-oh,” she said.

“Lacy,” Helida growled, “ _get_.” And Lacy closed the door so fast it slammed. “She needs to learn to wait before invited in,” she huffed.

“I take it this isn’t the first time she’s walked in on you?”

She gave him a look, “What? Want to hear she walked in on me and Taddlin banging?” she asked.

“Oh so nothing consequential then,” Ilnta said mildly and she dug her nails into his shoulders, furious that he would dismiss her old lover like that. Her old, _dead_ , lover.

“Prick,” she growled.

“Was that what it was like? Good thing you’re marrying me then, you would have been miserable,” and her mouth dropped open a bit, shocked he’d say that.

“Oh my gods I hate you,” she said and let him go, pushing him away and finished dressing. Ilnta just grinned to himself and pulled on a pair of pants, wiping down his arms and chest and put on a pair of sandals. Helida wore a dress so short he could nearly see her ass, and it was the color of the Sea after a storm, a creamy turquoise that made her clean skin seem to glow.

Ilnta went up to her as she was putting on her shoes, “Good thing I don’t,” he said and caught her by surprise when he kissed her. He honestly couldn’t remember any kisses they’d ever shared. They were always so hostile towards one another but Ilnta felt it was important for her to remember him as more than someone she snapped at or couldn’t be gentle with her. He was happy when she kissed him back and he knew they’d just fine. She’d always been his to marry, but now she was his in truth.

When they stopped kissing Helida was flushed and breathless. At least for a moment then she turned irritant with him again. “Don’t do that,” she said.

“Or what? You’ll slap me? Careful, I might like it,” he teased.

She had no come back for that, “I’m hungry,” she said and then walked away from him. Ilnta chuckled and then followed after her to find dinner.

 


	10. Along the Sea Road

It was obvious when the Sea Road went from Nedalia and into Aldash. For one there was a checkpoint, and the second obvious hint was the party of Aldashi in the grass before the beach head that had set up tents and areas to lounge while looking out to sea. They’d been waiting here for them and Helida didn’t regret a single moment of them waiting for her to arrive.

The border guards stopped them. They were Aldashi soldiers in province uniforms of deep pink and dark red with a bright pink peony design on the sleeve. On the other side of the road where the Sea Road crossed Flower road were the Nedalian guards, shirtless and wearing machete at their sides. “What is your business in Aldashi priestess?” one asked Helida respectfully.

“I’m meeting them,” she said and looked over at the Aldashi lazing about, and smoking. She could smell the putrid stench of roasted meat they were cooking and she wanted to vomit.

“Uh-

“Helida Rosalia, they’re expecting me. Tell them I’m here,” and the Nedalian guards turned when she announced herself. They bowed to her and she heard some quiet, ‘lady priestess’. The Aldashi guard frowned a bit but nodded and left. Helida’s horse Bud huffed and she didn’t blame her.

The guard came back, white faced, with an exquisitely attractive man. He had a lip piercing and two eyebrow piercings, framing his odd heterochromia of blue and brown eyes. “Lady Helida?” he asked, he had a sweet voice, though it sounded like it belonged on a woman. Too sweet, gentle, and high. Maybe he was a eunuch. 

“I am she,” she said proudly.

The man smiled and bowed to her with all the flourish she’d expect out of an Aldashi, fanning out his arms like he was about to flap them and take flight. She refrained from an eye roll. “It is _such_ a pleasure to finally meet you,” and he came up to Bud’s side. “We were afraid you wouldn’t come,” and she saw the glint in his eyes.

“I abide by the agreement of our contract. Here I am.”

“Mmmm, yes, a day later than we expected. The young master was so disheartened you weren’t here yesterday.”

“Who?” she asked.

“Come, I will introduce you,” he beckoned and Helida dismounted.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I am Nesdann Ito-Peony,” he offered her his hand, it was perfectly manicured but unlike her own had no paint job. “You may call me Nes if you wish,” his smile was white and all his teeth straight.

“Very well, Nes,” and she took his hand. As she did she motioned to her men. They dismounted together and one came to get Bud’s reins.

“Right this way,” Nes was all smiles as he led her away from her party and to where the tent had been erected. There was a young man, several years Helida’s senior, lounging on a makeshift couch, a long pipe stuck in his mouth. Her black hair was silky and voluminous and his eyes done in small winged eyeliner. Both of his cheeks were pierced with ruby studs and there were little golden chains that connected them to two lower lip rings. He had dark eyes that went well with his olive complexion and he looked so utterly _bored_. “Young master, lady Helida is here,” Nes said earnestly.

The ‘young master’ looked over at them and his eyes widened and focused with interest, his pipe hanging off his bottom lip precariously. Helida hid her reaction when he gracefully got to his feet and approached her. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen when he got up close. His ears were peaked some she could see through his hair, lips full, with the familiar coastal feylon features. “My lady, what an honor,” he said and took her hand, bowing over it slightly and pressed the knuckles to his forehead. “I am Rhodon Mue-Peony,” and she couldn’t even help that she was totally taken with him instantly. She had a feeling a lot of girls felt like this when they met Rhodon too. “My father sent me to come receive you and bring you back to Peonia.”

“Pleasure,” she said and gently tugged her hand out of his. She might find him attractive but she wasn’t going to be won over by some pretty boy. “I hope I didn’t keep you.”

“Not at all,” he said, “It gave us time to admire the scenery,” and he extended his arm out to indicate the the Sea to their right. From here they couldn’t hear the crashing of the waves on the beach, but she could smell the sweet and sour stench of rotting seaweed mixed with the disgusting stink of cooking meat. “And you arrived just in time for lunch,” he added with a smile.

“Perfect timing then,” she said, “and my companions?”

“They’re of course welcome to eat as well before they see you off. Nesdann, make sure their horses are taken care of and bring them,” he told the man who nodded and left. “I’m terribly sorry it has to be like this,” he said, offering her his hand. She contemplated ignoring it but thought that would be rude.

“What is?” she asked carefully as he guided her into the shade to sit.

“That such an _arrangement_ has to be made between our families for us to meet,” he said charmingly as they sat on comfortable folding chairs. “If I’d known you were so lovely I would have simply invited you to the Summer’s Ball. So much less messy.” And so much less useful to the Nedalians. Like Helida would have gone anyway.

“Well nothing will stop you when I return home,” she said. “Or before now when I wasn’t so busy.”

Rhodon smirked, “My father _did_ warn me about you. He said the Rosalia were so prickly and I was a mad man for requesting to come greet you and not just let Nesdann receive you. Surely it’s better if those in the same garden cooperate rather than obstruct one another. Don’t you agree?”

“It depends on the state of the garden I suppose,” Helida said, “and the manner of what seeds are sewn,” and she could tell by the glint in his eye that he was either amused or interested in her.

“Well its of my opinion that all gardens fare the best when the flowers are allowed to mix,” and then his gaze was drawn away from her. She followed his line of sight and saw Nes returning with her friends. The necromongers had made themselves busy and she could see them talking to the Peony servants about the state of her luggage.

“Lord Peony,” Lacy said and she, Hanni, and Ilnta bowed to him when they approached. Rhodon got to his feet and greeted her friends the same as he did Helida. Lacy and Hanni practically swooned and now Helida did roll her eyes. Her friends were so easily impressed by boys sometimes it was upsetting. They were so boy crazy she actually worried about their health at times.

“And you are?” Rhodon asked curiously when the girls sat next to Helida. Ilnta didn’t answer, he just glanced at Helida who grinned. “Am I missing something?” Rhodon asked, confused, looking between Ilnta and Helida.

“That is my betrothed,” Helida said, “introduce yourself, darling,” she said sweetly.

“I am Ilnta Warded, lord Peony,” and they shook hands. Helida smiled not so privately when she saw Ilnta squeeze Rhodon’s hand firmly, probably harder than he needed to. “I hope you take good care of my fiance in my absence.” He let go of Rhodon’s hand and none of them missed Rhodon’s slight flinch from the release.

Rhodon’s smile was slightly cracked, “Like she was my own sister,” he promised.

Ilnta didn’t smile back, he just went over to Helida and she moved so he could sit behind her. She smiled smugly and leaned against his chest. Rhodon’s face was well controlled as he sat again. “Forgive my betrothed, not all flowers are meant to mix,” and Rhodon’s eye twitched.

“Nesdann,” Rhodon said, turning away.

“Yes, young master?” Nes asked quickly.

“I am sure our guests are hungry, go check on the state of our lunch.”

“Of course,” Nes bobbed his head.

“Nes,” Helida called before he could leave, “whatever your cooks have decided to kill and cook for our lunch know that I, nor any of mine want it.”

Nes looked pale and then at Rhodon worriedly. “You don’t like pork?” Rhodon asked worriedly.

“We are Gardiens,” Helida said, “we do not eat _any_ meat.” Rhodon looked uncomfortable, “Did your father not tell you that?”

“Excuse me,” and Rhodon got to his feet and left quickly, grabbing Nes by the arm and dragging him away.

“Idiot,” Helida huffed.

“Oh Helida, don’t be so mean,” Lacy said. “He was so nice.”

“Lacy, you realize that before you showed up he was talking like he wanted to marry me,” Helida huffed.

“Marry you? Ew,” Hanni said. “Who’d marry an Aldashi?”

“Exactly,” Helida said.

“I thought you were wonderful,” Ilnta said mildly.

She turned around and gave him a look, “You don’t count. I’m your fiance, you have to think I’m wonderful,” and by the look in Ilnta’s eyes she knew was only holding his tongue because Hanni and Lacy were here. “And would you two have preferred to be served meat and then had to decline it?” she asked her friends.

“Gods no,” Hanni said, it was incredibly bad manners to be served food and then not eat it in Nedalia.

“Then there you go,” Helida said.

“Though I can’t believe they’d try to serve you meat,” Ilnta said. “I know Peony are stupid, but they aren’t _that_ air headed,” and her friends laughed.

“It was probably just an oversight.”

“Not like you’d ever let them get away with it,” Ilnta said.

Helida turned in his lap and grabbed his face in one hand, “Just like I’m not keen on letting you continue to get away with that smart tongue of yours,” she said sharply. She saw the sarcastic remark at the tip of his tongue. He held it in check and looked over her shoulder, brows going up. She turned back around, releasing him, and saw Rhodon returning.

“Pardon my quick departure,” he said and sat again, pushing his hair out of his face distractedly. “I had to have a personal word with the cook. Lunch will be arriving shortly,” he gave them all a pleasant, mild, look. “I would hate to serve you food that you don’t eat.”

“Thank you,” Helida said.

“You eat _no_ meat?” he clarified.

“Gardiens do not eat the flesh of any animal, great or small. To do so is against the laws penned in the Red Book.”

Rhodon frowned a bit, “Our version of the Red Book makes no such specification on eating habits,” he said.

“The Blessed Horra dictated that while Garden were to abstain from the flesh of animals it does not effect those who live outside the Rose Garden and who follow the teachings of the Red Book unless they choose to,” Helida said.

“So eating meat is quite literally against your religion?” Rhodon asked.

“Yes.”

“Fascinating,” he said, watching her face. “I look forward to hearing more about the proper teachings of the Red Book. A friend of mine would love to hear what you have to say especially,” and Helida wondered if his friend was a necromantic woman who’d been denied her birthright of learning to summon. 

“Young master, ladies, sir, lunch is ready,” Nes said and several servants came from around him. Rhodon’s meal was the only different one, while Helida and the others were given the exact same thing. Salad, simple with onions, shallots, and wedges of tomato with oil and vinegar shaken along on top. There were also green beans cooked with mushrooms, but for them that was it. Rhodon looked uncomfortable that he was eating the actual lunch prepared of some sort of cutlet on a bed of greens and covered in some sort of creamy sauce. Drinks of cold fruit juice was brought as well as a pitcher of water filled with ice shaped like flowers and probably crafted by some ice magi.

“Thank you, Nes,” Rhodon said and he nodded and left.

“Its difficult to eat with you in my lap,” Ilnta told Helida softly.

Helida twisted in his lap, so she was sitting sideways, one of the plates of salad in her lap. “Ah,” she said, lifting the fork up to his mouth. His brows were raised in surprise. She was doing it on purpose. Helida didn’t want there to be _any_ doubt in Rhodon’s mind that not only was Helida betrothed to Ilnta but that she was madly in love with him. Ilnta let her feed him and even her friends gave Helida slightly odd looks. She sent them both firm stares and they looked away.

“Uhg,” Hanni said and put her cloth napkin up to her mouth as she spit out some of the beans and mushrooms. 

“What’s the matter?” Helida asked, feeding Ilnta another bite of their meal, Hanni who looked a bit green.

“Meat,” she said.

“What? Impossible,” Rhodon insisted, “I told the cook no meat.”

“There is meat in here,” Hanni said and pushed the plate of beans away from her. She took several large sips of the juice. “I could taste it,” and she made a grossed out face.

Helida picked up the innocent looking plate of green beans. She didn’t want to risk eating something tainted by animal flesh, so instead she sniffed it. “What do you think?” she asked Ilnta.

Ilnta took one and popped it into his mouth. He chewed and she held back a snicker when he looked revolted, his face contorting almost comically. Ilnta mimicked Hanni and spit the bean back into a napkin. “Cooked in animal fat,” he said. “They used to do the same in the Arm. I recognize the taste anywhere.”

“Did you used to eat it?” she asked.

He grimaced, “It was that, or nothing sometimes, Helida,” he said. “Special meals offered your sister didn’t trickle down to her subordinates. At least this animal fat isn’t burned or rancid like what they served in the Arm was.”

Helida looked at Rhodon who was a mix of furious and humiliated. “Well, we just won’t eat that then,” she said and put the plate down, out of the way, Lacy had already pushed hers out of the way as well. “I can’t believe you’ve kissed me after you’d eaten meat,” she added to Ilnta a bit scoldingly.

Ilnta’s mouth opened, then closed, “Apologies,” he said tightly, but not angrily. Rather he was just holding back a particularly good come back. For a moment she wanted to know what it was.

“I am so sorry,” Rhodon said. “I wasn’t aware you were so sensitive to such things. I will make sure it doesn’t happen in the future,” he promised Helida.

“I believe you won’t,” she said and finished her lunch with Ilnta.

When Lunch ended it was time to say goodbye. The encampment had started to get packed up and it was clear that they would be leaving. Rhodon left again, saying he would give Helida a few minutes alone with her friends and Ilnta before they left. Now that it was happening Helida was nervous. Lacy grabbed her hands as they stood there, holding them tightly. “You’ll be fine,” she said sweetly.

“Its a long time,” Helida said.

“No it isn’t. Just two years. It’ll go by so fast you won’t even miss us,” and then she hugged Helida. Helida hugged her back tightly. Hanni hugged her next.

“Try to have some fun though,” Hanni said, “You’re going to Peonia and I’ve heard the city is magical. Just because you have to be there doesn’t mean you have to be miserable. Rhodon doesn’t seem like a bad guy, make him spend _lots_ of his father’s money on you,” and both girls laughed a bit wickedly. “Show him necromantic women don’t come cheap.”

Helida smiled a bit, “No we don’t,” she agreed.

“I am well aware,” Ilnta said dryly and they all looked at him, “What?” he asked.

“What have I said about you making jokes?” Helida asked.

“That you don’t like it,” he said with a sweet, patronizing tone, “But you had to admit that was a good one.”

“You’re awful,” she told him.

“So I’ve been told.”

Her friends dragged her away from Ilnta. Hanni spoke in a very stern near whisper, “You didn’t tell us he was witty.”

“I would hardly call that wit,” Helida said, matching her volume.

“We thought he was a mute.” Lacy said, “Who knew he had a sense of humor,” she looked over Helida’s shoulder at Ilnta who was standing there patiently.

“More trouble than its worth,” Helida said dismissively. 

“Well, also don’t forget you are betrothed,” Hanni said, “Rhodon should remember that.”

“I couldn’t agree more-

“But if you _do_ end up sleeping with him, make sure you get an anti pregnancy charm,” she added.

“ _Hanni_ ,” she hissed.

“What? He’s handsome, rich, charming, and wants to marry well. It’d be foolish not to think he’d try something. And well, if you say yes, you shouldn’t give your mother any unnecessary surprises,” Hanni gave her a look.

“I’m not sleeping with him,” Helida said firmly. “I’m sooner break his hand than allow it up my skirt,” and that made her friends laugh.

“I’m just saying,” she squeezed Helida’s hands. “Make him spend a lot of money on you,” she smirked.

“I will,” she said as someone approached, it was Rhodon. He’d changed clothes for riding. Strong clothes made of linen and silk with tall boots. His cheek piercings had been removed and it gave him dimples even when he wasn’t smiling.

“Ladies,” he said respectfully, “are you done?”

“Yes,” Helida said.

“Then we should get going,” Rhodon said, “Your horse is ready for you Helida,” and Helida swallowed uneasily. She didn’t want to go. She looked at her friends and they both hugged her at the same time fiercely.

“A rose in another garden is still a rose,” Lacy told her softly, still embracing her.

“Roses are king in any garden,” Hanna whispered and they both kissed her on the cheek. Helida nodded.

“We should get going then,” Helida told Rhodon.

“Right this way,” Rhodon motioned and she followed him out from under the tent, the others following.

The necromongers already had the horses ready for the return trip. Helida went up to Bud where an Aldashi servant held her and mounted up, taking the reins from them. Rhodon pulled himself to the saddle next to her, he had a big white gelding with deep black eyes. “Alright then,” he said, “it will be a few days to Peonia, we should get going.”

“Of course,” Helida said, looking down at her friends who waved at her. She waved back and looked at Ilnta. She couldn’t read his grey but they were dark and serious. Helida looked away, refusing to feel any emotion, so she didn’t cry, so she didn’t mourn having to miss them. She rode next to Rhodon as they left the border, some guards with them. The servants would bring along their things behind them.

At first Rhodon tried to make light conversation at first but Helida didn’t trust herself to speak, fearful she would start crying or her voice would betray her. He stopped after the first minutes of her not responding to him and just staring straight ahead unflinchingly.

They rode for half a bell at a bit quicker than walking speed when she heard the sound hooves pounding the road behind them. Helida looked behind her and her eyes widened in surprise. Ilnta was running towards them, his Sostic horse eating up the distance between them in moments. Then he was along beside them, his big dark horse slipping between the guards’ horses and came up beside her.

“Ilnta?” she asked, he had a serious look on his face and she drew Bud to a halt when he passed in front of her to come onto her other side, purposefully putting himself between her and Rhodon.

“You forgot something,” he said, drawing his blue eyed horse up next to her so they were at the same spot, though him higher than her since the black horse was taller than Bud.

“What?” she asked.

Ilnta leaned down and held her face in one hand and kissed her. She breathed in in surprise and kissed him back. Normally he’d never be so bold, and she wouldn’t allow such a public display of affection, but in that moment it felt like they were alone. His lips were gentle on hers, familiar in a way she hadn’t expected them to become familiar. 

“I will count the days till I see you again, _roshali_ ,” he said softly, but loud enough for Rhodon behind him to hear. She knew he was doing it for the man’s benefit too. “And when you return I will marry you and give you a son,” and she couldn’t help but smile a bit at him. She wondered how much of this was an act and how much he earnestly meant. Knowing Ilnta it could very well be both. “And many daughters,” he added with a smirk.

“Then lets hope the next two years pass quickly hmm?” she asked. He smiled and kissed her again.

“I will see you soon, _roshali_ ,” he said and then sat up and nudged his horse the correct way down the road, breaking into a run once out of the perimeter of guards. Helida watched him go and licked her lips. She hadn’t thought she would, but she felt longing in her chest to go after him, because she missed him.

She waited until he was too small to see before turning back around, “Shall we?” she asked Rhodon.

“Yes,” Rhodon said in a flat, measured tone that betrayed nothing. Helida kicked Bud into a swift walk. The sooner she got to Peonia the sooner her term would begin, the sooner it would finish, the sooner she could go home, see her family, her friends, and her husband again. She wondered when she’d started to think about Ilnta as her husband. 


End file.
